Black Swan Pas De Deux
by SashaSmoke
Summary: It appeared at the moment that she was more interested in learning more about the Ripper than she was in achieving justice. And he was more interested in seeing her dance than hiding his identity. Only time would tell how long their interests would last.
1. Chapter 1

yay new story! sorry about the crap intro thing - I suck at those so I just took a line from the story. This is something I came up with on the fly and am just gonna enjoy writing it. (honestly I don't know how it's gonna end yet, but I'll just put that off for now).

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hannibal - either the books or the TV show or the movies (I've used info from all three of these sources, so if everything isn't exactly as you remember it being described, that's why)

anywho, please enjoy.

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The young woman burst into Special Agent Jack Crawford's office with the force of a hurricane. "What happened Jack?" She demanded, eyes glued on the agent as she marched up to his large desk with the confidence who of one who'd been there before. Her dark scowl made up for her unassuming height and attire.

She was dressed in a wine-colored sweater and yoga pants, and on her feet were a pair of scuffed-up gray converse. Her black coat was thrown carelessly over a small suitcase, and her gray scarf lay on top of the haphazard pile. She looked young and out of place in the heart of Behavioral Science, but addressed Jack personally.

"Olivia." Jack said in surprise. "I didn't realize you were back in the country. Why don't we sit down and talk?" He asked, voice calm and steady. Hannibal's eyes darted between the newcomer and the FBI agent, not used to being sidelined. Who was this child?

She pursed her lips at the agent, unaffected by his placating words. She crossed her arms, hip cocked to the side, and glared at the senior agent. "I landed this morning, and imagine my surprise when I see on the front pages of every newspaper that not only has my brother been accused of four murders, but is also committed into the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane." Her voice was as cold and as sharp as a scalpel.

Sister. Will had a sister. Hannibal studied her with fresh eyes. She was petite in every sense of the word, her hands dainty and small like a china doll's. Her waist was slim, but he could see the strength in her body with every breath she took. Her dark hair was bundled up on the crown of her head but Hannibal can see from his spot that it was curly like Will's, a colorful headband failing to keep a few short curls from falling into her face. She was young, perhaps even a minor. Then her scent hit him.

Hannibal had never inhaled such a divine scent before. She smelled like roses and clean laundry and cold cut steel. He breathed in greedily. His slight movement caught her eye and she finally turned to face him.

Her eyes were gray, gray like a freshly sharpened steak knife. She watched him watch her with eyes like glass, shattered, reflecting a million images of himself, distorted. He could see nothing in those eyes but his own face. Unlike Will, she didn't avoid the eye contact, she demanded it. She studied him blatantly, something calculating lurking underneath her gray stare. For the first time, Hannibal felt exposed under her eyes, all his secrets laid bare for her to dig through. Some deeper instinct warned him that the delicate figure before him was more than met the eye. But then she turned back to Jack and it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Jack looked at her, his face grave. "There was a case. Will got too close and became lost in the profile. There's hard evidence to back the prosecutor up, Olivia. I'm sorry." Even Hannibal could appreciate the pathetic nature of Jack's apology.

Her spine stiffened, the hidden strength Hannibal saw coming to the fore. "Don't you dare apologize to me." She growled, face dark. "You and I both know that Will would never do something like this. Besides, he was just a teacher – he was never supposed to go back on live cases." She ran a hand across her tired face and ignored the prickle of prey drive between her shoulder blades. That man was still watching her. The one that reminded her of a bloodthirsty wolf in sheep's clothing. She shoved the sensation aside and focused on berating the man in front of her. "It was your decision to put him back in the field. You were responsible for his mental health, that meant you had his back. You of all people know what this kind of stuff can do to him — you were supposed to keep him from toppling over the edge, not give him the final shove!" Her face remained practically emotionless, although her tone belied that notion. She was furious at Jack and blamed him openly.

"Jack isn't the only one at fault. I'm afraid I'm also to blame for Will's tragic fall." Hannibal finally stepped forward, fascinated with the life he could feel thrumming inside such a small body.

She took a deep breath, her features smoothing out, and graced him with a polite, if not strained, smile. Hannibal was instantly impressed. Manners made the person in his eyes. She turned on her heel to face him fully, her body language clearly stating that she wasn't done with Crawford yet. "And you are?" She asked, voice soft.

He reached out for her hand. "Dr. Hannibal Lecter. I was Will's supervisory psychiatrist."

She quirked an eyebrow as she took his hand in her small one. "Supervisory?"

Hannibal managed a small smile. "Will didn't want me to formally be his psychiatrist. He didn't want me to psychoanalyze him, he told me. We were just having conversations." He shook her hand, basking in her sweet scent. Her hands were soft in some parts, but his keen senses could feel the faintest callouses on her upper palm. They were the same ones Will had on his fisherman's hands. Her gray eyes met his again, assessing him under dark lashes.

She smiled wanly. "Sounds like Will." She released his hand and backed away slightly. Under any other circumstances Hannibal would think that she was giving him personal space, but something more discerning told him she could see underneath his façade and wanted to keep her distance. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter. My name's Olivia Graham."

"Will has never mentioned you before. May I ask where you've been?"

Dr. Lecter's manners were impeccable, as was his three piece suit, but Olivia knew danger when she saw it. He reeked of controlled power. "Honestly I'm not surprised that Will never said anything. He can be quite overprotective when he sets his mind to it. Especially since he spends his time wading around in the minds of killers – that _really_ brings out the protective streak." She rolled her eyes fondly. "And since I've been away in Europe there was no reason to bring me up in your... conversations."

Her slight pause set off alarm bells in Hannibal's head, but he couldn't be bothered to act on his senses. Besides, there was no way Olivia could know about the quiet, whispering manipulations and blackout-inducing drugs he'd been using on her brother. But at the same time, something was different about her. His curiosity overrode his survival instincts. For now.

She rounded back on Crawford, her shoe groaning against the floor. She made the simple movement look elegant. "I want to see him." It wasn't a request. Jack nodded.

"It's the least I can do. I'll see it done." He made a note of it on his desk. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Olivia nodded, her gaze sliding behind Jack to look at the case photos. "I can stay at Will's. I have a key." She answered softly, walking around Jack on silent feet.

Hannibal noticed that she kept him in her peripheral vision at all times.

"Is this the case?" She looked at the bodies, their torn forms discarded and displayed. She tilted her head to the side. Jack nodded again. She absently scooped up the abandoned case file and flipped through it, scanning her brother's findings.

Olivia focused on the first picture displayed on the board, where a naked girl lay impaled on the antlers of a buck's decapitated head. She didn't even flinch. There was a certain arrogance in the kill, a cool precision only found in the cruel. It reeked of contempt for mankind. "This wasn't Will." She whispered, eyes still glued to the photo.

"I'm sorry, Olivia but this was Will's first murder. It happened shortly after he started working the Garrett Jacob Hobbs case. Somehow along the way, he forgot who he was. He killed Cassie Boyle thinking that he was Hobbs himself. All we found of Abigail Hobbs was her ear; it was in Will's sink." Jack replied softly.

She shook her head again, steel in her eyes. "No, look. _Look_ at how her body is displayed. Only a few days after you discovered that the girl was impaled by antlers, this" she tapped on the photo "is left behind? That's no coincidence, it's arrogance – this killer, this-" she looked down at the case file. "Chesapeake Ripper was confident enough to know that he'd get away with it. It's practically a gift to you, the way he has her displayed – he wanted you to know that this wasn't Hobbs, that a new predator is in town and intends to stay. He's toying with you. And see how she's left there, naked, at her most vulnerable? It's a disrespect to who she was as a human being. The Chesapeake Ripper has a very low opinion of his fellow mankind." Olivia whirled around to face the two men. "That's not who my brother is and you know it."

Hannibal was in shock, which was not a common occurrence. He had complete control over every part of his life, including his little drama he composed in the FBI. She was changing things, taking away his control. The way she spoke... she was adamant that it wasn't Will, which he of course knew to be true. But how did she know? She talked as if she understood the Chesapeake Ripper – understood him, at least on a basic level.

Jack must've sensed Hannibal's emotions, for Hannibal knew that his face had remained emotionless, and went to explain. "Olivia is like Will; she can empathize too." Jack's calculating eyes roved over the small brunette, already thinking of a way to get her to work for him. Let it be known that Jack Crawford was a problem solver.

Interesting. Unlike Will, she didn't seem haunted by the images displayed on Jack's whiteboard. Hannibal found his gaze sliding back to Will's sister, only to find her already studying him, her head tilted as before. He didn't see terror dancing in her eyes, only mild curiosity – in him.

Unnerved by her stare – and nothing unnerved him anymore – Hannibal spoke. "Do you need a ride back to Will's house? I'm happy to drive you."

Her eyes, filled with glass and brittle steel, revealed nothing as she nodded her head once. "That would be lovely, thank you." She gracefully slid around Jack's desk. "Do you mind if I keep this?" She asked Crawford, her face polite and expressionless. Grudgingly, Jack nodded. "Thank you." She smiled tightly when Hannibal held open the door for her.

"So you say you were in Europe. May I ask what for?" Hannibal asked as he walked Olivia to his car, her surprisingly small luggage held tightly in his grip.

She had to lengthen her stride to keep up with him, but her voice remained light. "I'm a dancer, or was a dancer. Ever since I was little I've been dancing. A sponsor saw one of my shows and offered me a trip all around Europe to learn ballet from the best. I needed a break from Virginia anyways, and after a lot of convincing from Will, I went."

"How old are you?" He asked, wondering how she fit into Will's unstable lifestyle.

"Seventeen."

"I find it hard to believe that Will allowed his seventeen-year-old sister to travel halfway across the world without him there to look out for you." Hannibal frowned, trying to picture a protective Will Graham letting his baby sister go.

"Like I said, it took a lot of convincing." She smiled. "But in the end, Will knew that I needed to be away from Virginia, at least for a while. There were things... when I was younger..." Her eyes became distant, her face full of past pain, but in a fraction of a second it was gone. "I had nothing more to learn from the ballet teachers here and the last thing Will wanted was to see me dancing below my ability. So he let me go." Her gaze slid to his profile. "You're European, right?"

Her brief flash of vulnerability gnawed at his curiosity, but he kept his voice casual. "Yes. I was born in Lithuania. I've traveled all over Europe, and stayed in Florence for a time. It's a beautiful country." His thoughts were not of the scenery, however, but of his victims and his sister. And of the food.

"Something tells me you weren't there for the Louver and the Eiffel Tower." Olivia muttered, her eyes flickering over to the barely concealed predator walking beside her. Every step he took was measured, controlled. Cool and precise power radiated off him in waves. How had Will not seen this?

Hannibal kept walking, feigning nonchalance while on the inside he buzzed. If she kept on shooting around in the dark but still finding her target he was going to have to do something about her. This put a wrench into his perfect plans. But Hannibal let none of his emotions show, simply holding the car door open for her and placing her luggage in the backseat.

"If you also have Will's empathetic ability, how come you didn't pursue a job in the field of investigation? I know that before Will's unfortunate fall, he was quite invaluable to the FBI." The sympathy and grief was perfectly replicated, the lie rolling easily off his tongue, but around her he felt exposed. He shifted his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm sure Jack would be happy to welcome you."

She snorted softly, the noise somehow sounding delicate from her. "You're not the first person to ask me that, Dr. Lecter. I suppose I thought about it for a while, but I was consumed with dance. Will had his thing, and I had mind. And after seeing how it tore Will up inside, I lost sight of the appeal." She frowned, looking down at the file in her lap. "But now that has to change. Will needs me."

Hannibal easily twisted his own personal concern into looking worried for her. "I wouldn't be so eager, Ms. Graham. That case drove Will into madness. I'd hate to see that happen to you as well."

"Please, call me Olivia. Something tells me that this won't be the last time I see you. Far from it, I think." Her eyes were telling him something, but it was gone before Hannibal could decipher it. "And you needn't be so concerned, although that's very thoughtful of you." She added quietly. "Will and I are like two sides of the same coin. We both have this strange gift to perfectly empathize with anyone. An overactive imagination, Will calls it." Olivia sighed, turning to look out the window. "Unfortunately both of us only have half of the whole package." She flashed him a wry grin, even though her eyes were flat and empty. "Apparently you can't get the whole thing."

They were almost in Wolf Trap and Hannibal was desperate for answers. "Is there any chance you would share those details with me? As a doctor I'm naturally curious about such a unique gift." He asked slowly, trying to feign casual interest.

Olivia fiddled with the file in her lap. "I'm not prone to the issues the empathy inflicts on my brother. Once I'm out of someone's head, I stay out until I need to go back in. Mannerisms, thoughts, and opinions don't follow me once I leave. I'm not haunted by nightmares, and my mind doesn't twist reality around a case." She shrugged her shoulders once. "I have the control he so craves." She chuckled humorlessly into her hands.

Hannibal's car pulled up into the driveway of Will's farmhouse. Olivia could hear the barking from inside the car. "Seems like Will's picked up a few more friends while I've been away." She murmured, face soft. "Thank you for the ride." She turned and smiled gratefully at Hannibal, even though she could see danger lurking behind his maroon eyes.

Olivia quickly slid out the car, grabbing her suitcase as she did. Before she could shut the door, Hannibal leaned over across the console, knowing that she didn't want him to walk her to the front door. "And what is it that Will has?" She looked up from the case file in her hands and graced him with the shadow of a smile.

"His boundless compassion for strangers and ability to sympathize with them. While he's horrified by what his killer do and rallies against it, I… I just can't bring myself to care. I'll see you around Dr. Lecter." And before he could say anything else, she shut the door and walked up the driveway.

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let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

hey guys - next part. I'm camping rn so the internet is pretty patchy; updates will take time. but please review what we have rn!

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Olivia could breathe again as soon as she shut the front door behind her. She shouldn't have told him so much about herself. Knowledge was power, and something told her that giving Dr. Lecter power was not a good idea. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a puzzle, a dangerous one, but a puzzle nonetheless. And if there was something she couldn't leave alone, it was an unsolved puzzle. Her intelligent mind was already dissecting every word, every movement he made as she weaved around the mass of dogs that greeted her happily.

"Hello, guys. It's good to see you all again." She cooed, surveying the crowded room. "There seem to be more of you since the last time I was here." She recognized most of them. Buster was currently sitting on her shoe. But one new face stood out to her. The dog was light brown with flecks of black and white all throughout his coat. His large brown eyes begged for pets, which she instantly gave him. "Who are you?" She murmured, rubbing his silky soft ears. His fan-like tail only wagged in response. Fingering the tag on his collar, she pulled it closer to the light. "Winston, huh?" Winston sighed against her touch, eyes closed in bliss.

"Okay Will," she muttered to herself, standing back up from Winston. "What did you get yourself into?" The farmhouse was as small and as cozy as she remembered, still painted a deep, dull blue/green. The furniture was a hodgepodge of different styles, unmatched in every sense of the word. After wandering upstairs, she saw that her room was unchanged, except for the fact that Will made her bed. She smiled softly at the kind gesture. Olivia dumped her suitcase on the bed, ignoring the dust she awakened. She'd deal with unpacking later.

Heading back downstairs, she peeked into Will's room, her nosey younger sibling instincts kicking into high gear. The room smelled like disinfectant and strangers. She frowned. Obviously Jack had sent his crew over to her brother's house to wade through Will's belongings after he'd been accused of the murders. That explained why a lot of Will's fishing tack was missing. She rummaged around in his closet until she found a warm sweater the crew left behind. Smiling softly, she pulled it over her head, comforted by the familiar texture. The November air was chilly, so she carefully stepped over the various lumps in front of the fireplace and turned on the space heater Will had placed there.

Turning on her heel, she surveyed the room. Will surrounded himself with his motorboat parts and his fishing tackle, that and the dogs being the only personal things he really cared about in this place. She reached out and gently ran her hand down the closest fishing rod, a sad smile tugging at her lips. Olivia hadn't realized how much she missed him until that moment. She missed his smile, the one that only she knew best because of his shy personality. She missed his warm hugs and frumpy sweaters. Sighing, Olivia let her eyes wander around the small space.

From his profile (yes, she profiled her only living relative, but it was the only way to keep tabs on him and she couldn't really stop herself if she tried), she knew that he didn't have a computer and didn't bring work home. It was hard enough for him when the images and profiles haunted his dreams. He slept on the first floor so he'd know when someone came by and never left the house without some sort of assurance he'd be safe, whether it was a gun or a pen knife. She'd have to work from her one file alone.

She marched over to the small eating table and plunked down in the chair, opening up the file as she did so. Olivia carefully laid out all the photos, keeping the notes in front of her to read from. Olivia organized the photos by case, eyebrows raising as she took them all in. It was as clear as day to her the difference between Hobbes' kill and the Shrike's. This Chesapeake Ripper was a fan of the dramatics she noted. The 'Wound Man' was particularly interesting and violent – Olmstead must've done something terrible to piss off the Ripper.

The organ harvesting meant cannibalism, and the fact that there wasn't a lunatic with brain damage running rampant hinted that the Ripper had enough knowledge on both medicine and cuisine to be able to prepare human meat well enough to prevent internal damage. She frowned down at the file. The FBI was dealing with a cold-hearted professional.

It took some fumbling around Will's worktable but Olivia finally found a pad of paper and a pen in one of the drawers. She also discovered a knife hidden towards the back; the police clearly hadn't searched as throughout as they thought. She placed it on the table. Heading back to her file she printed out on the top of the page in clear letters **CHESAPEAKE RIPPER** with a dark line running underneath.

Olivia studied the pictures in front of her, her gray eyes slowly roaming over the broken bodies. Her head slowly tilted on its own, the tell-tale sign that she'd begun profiling. After surveying the images for a while, she closed her eyes, exhaling gently. In her mind's eye she saw an old, worn oak door. It was the mental door to her empathy — this was how the maintained such precise control; she yanked it open. Sucking in a deep breath, she plunged into the profile.

 _To me the world is a beautiful, bright playground. And these small things are my toys. I see the people around me as insignificant, pathetic things. I pull their strings this way and that, causing them to dance for my own amusement. I thrive on the power I have over others._ _I punish the rude and put their bodies to a better purpose. I am in control at all times, even while committing murder. I will protect myself at all costs, even killing a high-profile person in order to remain undetected, but I will leave no trace. I am stability. I am calm. People trust me because I am constant. I plan each murder meticulously – to me they aren't even murders. It is mercy. I'm not a monster, I am a fallen angel. I am Satan, back for another round with my father's playthings._

Her eyes snapped back open, face expressionless and smooth. She started scribbling on the page like a madwoman.

 **Doctor – the organs are removed with skill and ease; he has enough medical knowledge to leave other parts of the body undamaged; he feels no guilt by taking them; he believes that they are not worthy of the organs, so he puts them to a (in his mind) nobler cause.** **Skilled chef – the meat is cooked well enough that the Ripper is not plagued by brain damage; the Ripper knows the side effects of eating raw human flesh (either he's seen it, or experienced it –- _ask Will about it_ ). ** **Purposeful – he doesn't pick victims randomly; in his mind, the rude are like pests he must put down; his victims forget ever treating him in such but the Ripper remembers the transgressions forever – he likely has a list of some sort where he keeps all the names; the victim pool is large enough to suggest that he will wait until their meat is needed before he carries out their retribution; victims are most likely chosen at random.** **Practiced – he has no trouble being cruel, the organs are taken while the victims are still alive; the level of rudeness reflects the level of cruelty. Each step of his kill is meticulously planned out, taking every factor into account, including when the body will be discovered and by whom, and how the FBI will react: the Ripper has intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the FBI and keeps himself updated on the news of his killings.**

It was well past midnight when she finished her list and sub-lists. It was over three pages long and had direct connections to all of the Ripper's murders, including the ones that Will was accused of. Sighing deeply, she expelled the Ripper from her mind as she exhaled. The open door slammed shut, and the connection was gone. She smiled grimly down at her work before checking her watch tiredly. After a twelve hour nonstop flight along with the emotional rollercoaster of discovering her brother was a convicted murderer to working to prove his innocence, she was exhausted. She wasn't the only one either. All of the dogs were asleep, curled up in a pile of pillows and silky ears in front of the heater except for Winston, who'd been her steady companion all throughout the night. His head was heavy on her thigh.

Olivia yawned hugely. "Come on, Winston. Let's get to bed." He obediently followed her up the stairs and curled up next to her on the bed. She fell asleep with her hands buried in his soft fur.

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I know it was pretty short, and I'm sorry, but camping remember? please comment!


	3. Chapter 3

wow it's kinda been a while. i know most of you guys don't even read these things (lord knows i hardly do), so i'll just get to the point.

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Olivia woke to the sound of the dogs barking. She scrambled to her feet, throwing on a pair of loose sweatpants and a dark t-shirt. She padded down the stairs on silent feet, speeding up when she heard heeled boots walking on the gravel driveway. Quietly palming a folding knife from Will's worktable and tucking it into the pocket of her sweatpants (you really never knew at this point who could be on the other side of the door), she strode towards the door, the dogs parting before her like the Red Sea before Moses. Yanking the door open slightly, Olivia came face-to-face with a woman she'd never met before.

Alana jerked back in surprise as the door opened on its own, her copy of the key almost falling out of her hand. Before her stood a short young woman, probably no older than 18, with sleep tousled hair and suspicious gray eyes. "Can I help you?" The girl asked, voice still rough from sleep. She didn't open the door any further, but continued to study her through the small gap.

Alana recovered quickly, her years of psychiatric training kicking into gear. "My name is Dr. Alana Bloom. I've been dog sitting here for the past few weeks. May I ask why you're in my friend's home?" She kept her tone polite, but her face blank. Could this girl be some sort of twisted murder groupie that was enamored with Will's killings?

The girl's eyes flashed briefly, but it was gone before Alana's trained eye could identify it. "It's very kind of you to look after them while Will is... away, but that's no longer needed." Her tone was perfectly polite, but there was a sharpness to it that Alana didn't understand.

"I'm afraid I can't just leave — I don't even know who you are. How did you even get in? Are you here because of Will? Do you think he likes being a killer? You shouldn't take advantage of the sick." Alana admonished, her indignation on Will's behalf causing her cheeks to turn pink.

The door finally swung all the way open and the young woman stepped across the threshold, eyes fierce. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in tones of brown and caramel, the curl of it tugging on Alana's memory. She looked incredibly young in a pair of large sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt. Those hard, unforgiving gray eyes fixed Alana to the spot. They made her short stature seem imposing; Alana felt quite small as the younger woman glared at her.

"Convincing him that he committed those deeds is only fracturing his already fragile psyche. If you knew anything about the inner workings of Will's mind, you wouldn't throw around those accusations lightly. He needs someone who believes in him, not a sea of friendly faces telling him that they think he killed four people, especially when he is innocent of all charges." Each word was cool and precise like an xacto knife cutting through flesh, clean and neat. She jutted her chin out, eyes dark with an emotion Alana couldn't identify. "While I acknowledge the loyalty you obviously have for my brother – even though it is twisted – I'd appreciate it if you gave me your copy of the house key and stopped dropping by." She smiled tightly; it didn't reach her eyes. "Sudden guests make me uneasy."

Alana was so stunned that she actually handed over the key without protest. Will had a little sister? It stung that Will never said anything to her about it. But now that she looked at the young woman standing before her with clearer eyes, Alana could see the slight similarities. The curly, almost unruly brown hair, the small nose and arching forehead. But while Will's eyes were a frosty blue, the girl's were a steel gray, as void as emotion as they were of color.

She cleared her throat, trying to get her bearings. "I never knew that Will-"

"Had a sister? Yeah, I'm sensing a theme." The girl muttered. "Clearly he wanted to keep my identity close the chest, although I can't imagine why." Alana could tell that the girl knew exactly why Will had kept her identity a secret – she just didn't trust Alana enough to tell her. Apparently Will hadn't either.

"Well, I guess I'll be on my way then." Alana felt out of place on Will's front porch in front of his standoffish little sister. Applesauce whined and pressed closer to her owner's legs, sensing the tension. The girl's cold gray eyes warmed at the sight of the mutt at Alana's feet.

"Hello there," she murmured, squatting down in front of the dog and holding out her upturned palm to let the dog smell it. After a few delicate sniffs, Applesauce was putty under the girl's gentle touch. "What's her name?" She asked, looking up at Alana, her earlier hostility forgotten for the moment.

Alana couldn't help but smile at the parallel between the siblings: all confrontation became irrelevant in the sight of a dog. "Applesauce. Because she'd always try to eat mine from off the table."

The girl beamed down at Alana's dog. "Applesauce – what a great name, huh girl?" She continued to stroke the dog's ears, content to remain on the front porch for the time being. Alana wasn't sure what to do. The awkward silence was broken by the girl's soft voice. "I'm Olivia, by the way." She seemed most like Will in that moment – eyes downcast, shoulders hunched, almost hiding behind the large dog that sat between them.

"It's nice to meet you, Olivia. I'm sorry to have woken you up." She waited a few seconds, testing the waters, before forging on. "It must be hard, staying here all by yourself." Alana did feel bad, the poor thing looked too small in her massive clothes, curled up around a large pile of dogs that all vied for her attention. And to come home only to find that her only brother (or maybe there were more of them – how could Alana know?) was a serial killer locked away in a mental institution couldn't have been easy... Alana's heart went out to the girl.

Olivia nodded stiffly, clearly uncomfortable with the piteous look Alana was wearing. "Thank you again for looking out for the dogs for Will. I'm sure he appreciates it." Her polite, stiff smile was firmly back in place as Olivia stood up again, disappearing back behind the threshold and into the sea of fur and wagging tails. "Have a nice day."

Alana nodded before the door was shut, not unkindly, but firmly in her face. Rattled by the younger Graham's rollercoaster emotions, she shuffled back to her car, Applesauce trotting happily beside her.

Olivia watched with narrowed eyes through the window blinds as Dr. Bloom pulled out from the driveway. She knew she'd been harsh to the older woman, but hearing the words thrown in her face that Will's "friend" truly believed he could commit such horrible crimes set her teeth on edge. And the way Alana's pupils dilated when she said Will's name – there was something going on between her brother and that woman. And that look? Olivia _hated_ pity. Ever since she was younger and dealing with her empathy, all she ever got was that exact same pity-look. The only person she'd ever met who hadn't looked at her that way was Will. He was the only one who really knew what it was like. "She had a cute dog though, right guys?" She said, turning back to her fan club. Buster whined, eyeing the door.

"Alright, alright. Come on then." She yanked open the door again, laughing as the dogs lunged for it in a torrent of wagging tails and bright eyes. They bounded into the crisp autumn air, doing their business and happily nipping at each other. Olivia watched them, a fond smile twisting her lips as she leaned against the doorway. When the dogs started to wander too far, she stood up straight and whistled once. "Come on guys!" She called, quickly getting out of the way as they poured back into the house. After filling several large food bowls, the dogs were out of her way in the small kitchen, happily chowing down.

Feeling the twinge of hunger herself, she perused the fridge for a bite to eat. All she found was some seriously expired milk and a hunk of the weird cheese that Will liked. Clearly the FBI agents had cleared the place out (although why they left the milk and cheese was a mystery to her). Looked like she'd have to wait on food.

Olivia was about to hop in the shower, her toiletries and towel bundled in her arms, when her cell phone started to ring. Frowning at the unknown number, she set the stuff aside and pulled her phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Olivia. It's Jack Crawford. I wanted to let you know that you can visit Will today. I cleared it with Dr. Chilton. He is quite eager to meet you."

She didn't even want to know how Jack got access to her personal number. "Thank you Jack. You have no idea what this means to me." After a few pleasantries, she hung up. Unable to contain her delight for a second longer, she took flight across the floor before launching into an elegant ballerina split mid-air. She landed on her toes with her arms above her head. "I'll see you soon Will." She whispered happily, twirling once before heading back to the bathroom.

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sigh. another short chapter. that's another little taste of Olivia's character. but i can promise you won't have to wait as long until the next one - i'm officially back from camping.


	4. Chapter 4

wow. first of all i'd like to thank all the encouragement i've been getting about this. thanks guys. second - here's the next chapter.

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Knowing exactly how she was going to cheer her brother up, Olivia quickly dressed in a loose and plain black t-shirt dress, the hem falling just above her knees. She jammed her feet into her converse, tying the laces absentmindedly. With practiced ease, she twisted her still damp hair into a perfect bun on the crown of her head, ignoring the few small curls that fell around her face. Grabbing her drawstring backpack, she threw in her earbuds, her battered copy of Shakespeare's Macbeth, and carefully placed on top her black pointe shoes.

After thinking for a second she threw in the case file and her notes on the Chesapeake Ripper too. There were some things she'd like to figure out, and nobody knew her - and her thought process - like her older brother. She rummaged around in her suitcase until she found her coat and scarf and she was out the door in a blink.

Only to pause on the front porch. Will's Volvo had been impounded in the FBI's lot; there was no way for her to even get to the Baltimore State Hospital from here. She sighed, pulling out her earbuds and plugging them into her phone as she bounced down the front steps. Walking the several miles to the bus stop in the blustery weather didn't sound like the best idea, but it was the only one she had. Olivia stubbornly refused to ask for a ride from Crawford – it was his fault Will was even in this mess.

Tchaikovsky's Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy filled her ears as she walked down the road towards the closest bus stop. In her mind's eye she could see each step and twirl perfectly, as if she was watching the performance unfold in front of her. As the Prince easily scooped up the Fairy and twirled her above her head, Olivia couldn't help but spin along on the road.

She was halfway through the story (soundtrack-wise) by the time she reached the bus stop, and luckily for her she didn't have to wait long before the bus came groaning along. Taking out her earbuds (Will had unceasingly reminded her of the fact that women were most vulnerable on a bus alone), Olivia chose a seat close enough to the door that she wouldn't have to walk past too many passengers to get out, even though there was only one other passenger on board. She smirked to herself. Will would be proud of her careful nature.

Sliding gracefully into her seat, Olivia jammed her hands into her coat pockets to warm them up, only to find a cold piece of metal waiting inside. Pulling it out curiously, Olivia couldn't help but smile when she recognized it.

It was the Hanayama Cast Vortex puzzle that Will had given her for Christmas last year. She still hadn't solved it and had completely forgotten she'd left it in her coat pocket. Settling deeper into her chair, she studied the puzzle carefully. The three pieces each had a spiral body and two protrusions. It was currently flat in her hand, but in order to undo the complex entanglement, she had to unbind them three dimensionally. A perfect distraction for the hour long bus ride she had.

Olivia could feel the eyes on her from across the bus. She ignored the stare and focused on the puzzle in her hands instead. Her brow furrowed when her first tactic failed at entangling the metal. She could feel the instant the stare went from interested to challenging and it was hardly a surprise when she heard footsteps start to approach her. The masculine presence loomed, a silent dare to a girl traveling alone on the bus with no one around to hear her scream.

A normal girl would have looked up. Would have searched for the potential harm in the intruder. Would have responded with flight or fight. But Olivia could feel in her bones that the presence was merely assessing her, trying to figure her out, so she remained unmoved and focused instead on her puzzle. Flight or fight made everything seem so black or white she thought as she twisted the rings this way and that. The only thing that mattered to her was her control. Control over herself.

She studied the stranger out of the corner of her eye as her fingers continued to try to solve the puzzle. All she could spy from her position in the seat was from the shin down. The expensive leather dress shoes and pressed slacks told her that this man didn't need to ride the bus to commute, which meant he was likely here to see her. That and the fact he only moved closer as soon as she was relaxed cemented her theory. He must know of her situation – the fact that she didn't have a car — which meant that she'd already met him. She recognized the predator that lived like a shadow inside of him, the trickle of fear that slid down her back when he stepped closer.

"Are you my escort today, Dr. Lecter?" She asked, focus torn between the cast iron in her hand and the tall man next to her.

He carefully sat down next to her, each movement planned and performed. "How did you know it was me?" His accent muddled the words slightly, but she could tell that he was cultured and curious. Money and means.

Olivia fiddled with the puzzle in her hands. Twisting the separate rings out and up, she smirked into her lap. She was one step closer. She pulled with two outer rings to the side, pulling one of them closer to the gap. Her lips quirked again when she pulled the next ring out and up, freeing it from the center ring. The next one was soon to follow. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips. The tension leaked out of her shoulders. She stuffed the completed puzzle back into her jacket pocket.

She finally turned to look at him, gray eyes hard and clear. The eyes of a person who knew that they saw clearly enough to see beyond the kindly psychiatrist façade he wore so well. Clearly enough to see the predator in her midst. "You only started to move once I got myself comfortable, which meant that you were here for me in some way. And that meant that you knew I had no way to get around except for the bus, so that means I'd already met you since I've gotten back. One look at those shoes and those slacks and I knew it was you." She shrugged. "Simple elimination."

She was showing off and they both knew it. It was her only way to warn him that she saw more than others did and she should not be messed with. Hannibal was charmed by her small warning and decided to heed it. At least for the moment.

He offered her a polite smile and nodded slightly – his small way of acknowledging her warning and skill. "Are you excited to see Will, then?" He asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to keep their conversation going and away from dangerous topics. He was the captain and commander — in complete control of their conversation and actions.

Instantly, the wary look on her face melted away, replaced by a small grin. "Of course." Her smile fell slightly. "I mean, I wish we didn't have to meet at a hospital for the criminally insane," she shot him a scathing look – one that told him she knew he had to be involved somehow, "but beggars can't be choosers." She shook her head wonderingly, shoving her small hands into her jacket pockets. They instinctively curled around the metal puzzle. "It's strange, I didn't realize how much I missed him until I got back and was told that I _couldn't_ go see him. Never know how good you have it till it's gone, huh?" She murmured, looking at him with a sad smile.

Thinking about siblings always brought out the worst in Hannibal. Not his wrathful cannibalistic side, but the broken, damaged boy whose parents died too soon and who had to watch his sister be murdered and eaten. That boy was infinitely worse than who he was now. That boy was a survivor, willing to do what it takes to end up on top. Mischa's screams filled his ears and could almost smell cooking flesh...

"Do you like the arts, Dr. Lecter?" Olivia's gentle tone cut through Hannibal's memories like a knife through butter. He blinked once to clear his trail of thought. He stared at her out of the corner of his eye. She was looking straight ahead, but the small curve of her mouth told him she already knew the answer, and had asked it to distract him from his traumatic childhood. Her face was smooth and unreadable, but her eyes were searching his face for answers.

"Yes. I have a deep fondness for the arts. Mostly opera, and occasionally an orchestra performance. Sadly enough I've never had the opportunity to see a real ballet performance." Her mouth turned down into a small pout at that. He was surprised to find himself talking again, trying to impress her, to make up for the fact that he'd never seen the performing art that was her life. "I have a theremin and a harpsichord at my house that I play often enough. I'm currently composing a piece for my harpsichord, but Will's case has made me put it on hold for now." He looked over at Will's little sister. "But I have a feeling you already knew my opinion on the matter."

She shrugged, saying nothing and everything at the same time. She didn't want him to dwell on dark thoughts but she was scared of him. "When people find out I'm a ballet dancer, they immediately launch into a speech about loving the arts and truly appreciating and understanding dance, but most of them wouldn't know a jeté from a fouettè." Her tone was disapproving, borderline resentful and it caught Hannibal's attention.

"You don't like it when strangers try to relate to you?" He asked, prodding her along just like he did with her brother. His lips curled into a small arrogant smile.

She shot him a dry look. "Don't try to have a 'conversation' with me, Dr. Lecter." Or maybe not like her brother. "I'd rather just talk." Her gray eyes met his, and he nodded once in acquiescence. She smirked at him, enjoying how her behavior was switching the directions in his little play; there were no scripts to read from here. "But I suppose in a way you're right. Since I was younger, I've been relating – empathizing – with strangers. And for some reason it sets my teeth on edge to have others try to do that with me. Perhaps it's because I know they'll never know me the way I know them, so I don't see the point of them even trying." She wrinkled her nose. "It's even worse when they try to lie their way into my good graces. I want people to be honest with me. Lying to try to get my approval is pathetic and wastes both our time. Theirs because I can see right through them, and mine because I have to put up with it and then find some way to chase them off." She sighed, leaning against the window to look at the boring, frozen scenery.

He found himself identifying with the small girl next to him. While nobody knew his true nature — although he thought that Bedelia had a loose idea — it was annoying to see people try to relate to him, try to put themselves on his level. He wasn't on their level — he was above such small-minded creatures. It was interesting to discover there was this small parallel between his young companion and himself.

Hannibal took the time to study her, then, when she was distracted with heavy thoughts. The dress seemed impractical for the middle of autumn in Virginia, so he supposed she wore it on purpose to see Will. The scuffed up gray shoes made even less sense, but perhaps she simply didn't own very many pairs of shoes. Her hair was up again into a perfect bun, making Hannibal wonder how long it was. Next to her primly crossed ankles was a drawstring backpack. He could see some black ribbon peeking out from the top of the bag, along with the top of a notepad. His eyes narrowed, trying to read her looping script. The only words he could pick out were "victim" and "chef" and in big letters across the front, "CHESAPEAKE RIPPER," underlined in thick pen strokes. His gaze snapped up to look at her, but she was already staring at him, waiting for him to react.

"Something wrong, Dr. Lecter?" She remained polite, but he could hear the slight tremor in her voice. All he could do was smile tightly in response. He had to see her notes. With planned slowness, she reached down and pulled her bag into her lap, thereby creating a wall between them and keeping him from reading any more. "I spent most of the night looking into the crimes in that file Jack let me keep." She mumbled, suddenly uncomfortable. Hannibal was... well she wasn't 100% what he was exactly, but sharing with him her findings on the Chesapeake Ripper wasn't wise. The way he was looking at her bag went beyond casual interest. She peeked at him underneath her lashes.

Large intelligent gray eyes scanned his lined face. _Doctor._ They strayed to his hands folded neatly in his lap, spying the callouses on his thumbs and palms, the small cuts and burns only seen in beginner cooks. Judging by how old the scars were, she imagined he was far from a beginner now. _Chef._ She took in his every breath, how every single move was planned and performed for everyone around him. How those around him unconsciously gravitated towards him for guidance and strength. _Controlled._ Olivia flashed back to yesterday when she marched into the FBI like a madwoman, at how Hannibal was comfortably chatting away with Jack like they were old friends. _Intimate knowledge of the FBI._ She locked eyes with him, slowly uncoiling from her curled up position in her bus seat; he stared back, unblinking. Hannibal had been Will's therapist — he had the ability and skill to slowly worm his way past Will's defenses as her brother continued opening up to him with his worries and fears. He had easy access to Will's home and mind. _Will's blind spot._ Those gray eyes widened in shock and quickly narrowed into twin slits of cold ice.

She'd seen something in him, he could see. Something cold and reptilian. Hannibal breathed in and out slowly. The calm before the storm.

Olivia straightened in her seat, her fear ebbing away as fury settled in her veins. The words came tumbling from her lips, even though her every instinct was screaming at her to keep her mouth shut. "There were some parts of Will's condition that I didn't understand." She said, eyes still locked with his. Her voice was crisp and quick, her fear long gone now, her rage making her bolder. "I know Will. I know what the empathy does to him, what it used to do to me, and it does not cause blackouts, sleepwalking, or loss of time. In all the years that Will has disappeared into a stranger's mind, not once has he blacked out because of it." Her challenging gaze bored into him. "And that means my brother was drugged, which would be hard considering his extreme trust issues and aversion to human interaction, so that means that someone," she stopped, surprised to find her eyes welling with angry tears. "Someone my brother _trusted_ abused him and framed him for murder."

Hannibal knew that if outsiders discovered what he'd done they'd believe its was sick and wrong. They couldn't see the situation from his point of view. They had no way of knowing the inner workings of his complex mind. They couldn't possibly understand the reasons why he'd chosen Will Graham.

And they didn't see the value of proper manners in the way he did. He had no trouble sleeping the night after he'd ended another's life. Hadn't felt a twinge of guilt in years. But looking into Olivia Graham's shining, hate-filled eyes caused his stomach to twist. Anger and hurt – the most emotion he'd ever seen from her – swirled thickly in her gray eyes. Hurt on her brother's behalf. Anger at the person who did this to him. He remembered seeing those same eyes in the mirror when he was her age. For once, Hannibal had nothing to say. No insight to give.

Olivia sucked in a deep breath, pushing the fly-away hairs out of her face with a shaky hand. So much for keeping her thoughts to herself. She studied the suddenly exposed man next to her. His mask was askew — he'd never lose control so completely as to drop it — and his arms hung limply at his sides. He looked... surprised. But mostly he looked lonely. Before she could stop herself and consider the consequences, the door in her mind swung open and she started to slide into his perspective, her head tilting to the side. Another puzzle piece fell into place. Before she could stop herself she was talking again.

"One thing I haven't figured out yet is why the Chesapeake Ripper seems so interested in my brother. If he saw him as a threat, wouldn't the Ripper just take care of him, like he had with others that have gotten too close?" She had his complete attention now. "No, I think that one word had the Ripper filled with hope. Empathy." Those maroon eyes were riveted on her, drinking in every word. "No one had ever – could ever understand him, that is until he heard about Will's empathetic abilities. At last, at long last the Ripper had someone who could see the world as he does." She frowned, delving deeper into the profile as she spoke. She didn't even see the large man in front of her, she was so engrossed.

"But part of him knew that Will's good heart and strong morals would never allow him to fully succumb into becoming the one person who could accept the Ripper. So the Ripper had to break him first. Put a hole in the ship and burn every lifeboat but one so Will only had only two options: either become like him or drown. The Ripper isn't some sadistic murderer who gets his kicks from tormenting my brother and duping the FBI. It's what he'd like the outside world to think because he hates the truth. At his core, the Ripper is just a broken husk of a man who just wants to be understood. Just wants to be loved." Olivia whispered, eyes unfocused as she sifted through her new findings.

It took all of Hannibal's energy to keep from reacting. He'd been a patient with Dr. Maurier for years and she'd never gotten as close to understanding him at his core than this young girl in front of him did in the past two days. Sure, Maurier knew what he was, but she never tried to understand _why_ he was what he was. But Olivia Graham was trying. Even now, he could see her clever mind digging deeper into the Ripper's profile – into his profile. Trying to figure him out. Trying to understand him.

The bus reaching their stop yanked them both out of their thoughts, the double doors slowly groaning open. They stared at each other for a moment, lost in their own revelations. For some inexplicable reason, Hannibal wasn't worried about Olivia.

It appeared at the moment that she was more interested in learning more about the Ripper than she was in achieving justice. And he was more interested in seeing her dance than hiding his identity. Only time would tell how long their interests would last.

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i know, i know. why would Olivia care about learning more about Hannibal? but as we've seen, the empathy affects Olivia differently than it does Will. more will be revealed about how Olivia will deal with Hannibal's role in Will's incarceration, believe me.


	5. Chapter 5

yikes it's been a while. but more will come soon, I promise! also, thank you so much for all the support I'm getting - it really makes it easier to continue writing.

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Jack, Alana, and Dr. Chilton were already waiting for them on the front steps of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Olivia hated the building immediately. It was cold and dark and domineering. She stared openly at Alana, surprised by her presence, but her attention was snatched away by Dr. Chilton.

"Olivia Graham." He said her name like it was the cure to cancer. "I must say I'm surprised when I heard about you from Dr. Bloom. Will and I have had some deep conversations over the past few weeks but not once did he mentioned you." Her gaze flickered over to the others. Join the club. "I am terribly sorry that you had to arrive back to the States only to hear such grave news about your brother. The family of the murderer never gets their reward, do they?"

She studied him for the briefest of moments. It was clear to see that from his cheap imitation of Dr. Lecter's three piece suit that he wanted to be as successful as the taller man. Considering the fact that they both had the same careers — one making about three times as much as the other — showed her that that wasn't happening any time soon. Despite this fact, he had a huge opinion of himself and believed that he would be the one to 'crack' her brother and find out what made him tick. To gain his favor, all she needed to do was do some ego stroking and toss him some scraps about their childhood. She gathered all this information in the blink of an eye.

She flashed him a simpering smile. "Too true, Dr. Chilton. I have to say, when I heard about what happened to Will and where he was, I was worried that he'd be mistreated and abused mentally. I can see now that those were silly thoughts to have in the first place." She said with a small smile, taking his hand and shaking it quickly, hoping to get the slime off of her as soon as possible. He preened under her praise like a prized show pony. "Maybe Will's trust issues has something to do with our mother, but-" she widened her eyes, her mouth falling open as a small gasp of guilt escaped her. "But I shouldn't say too much." She fought to keep a straight face. Will and her didn't even have the same mother. But there was no reason to tell Dr. Chilton that.

The man lapped it up eagerly, oblivious to the fact that he was being played by a minor. "That's very interesting – I haven't talked to Will yet about his parents…" He trailed off, devising different ways to torment her brother. She wanted to gut him like the fish she and Will used to catch when she was little. "Why don't you follow me, Ms. Graham. Will is waiting in the visitor's center. I haven't told him you were coming. I thought a surprise would do him some good." He turned, carefully leaning on his overly decorated cane and led the way through the glass doors.

She trailed behind him, her dancer's grace causing her dress to swirl at her knees with each step. Hannibal walked beside her, having said nothing to her since her little speech on the bus. He was curious as to why she'd waste her time with a moron like Chilton, but watching the interested expression melt from her face as soon as the man had his back turned answered his internal musings. She wanted something that only Chilton could give her, and she had a loose enough reign on her morals to use manipulation to get them. He was startled to see a bit of himself inside of her.

Hannibal kept his eyes glued on Olivia's face as they headed down the stairs and into the "visitor's center" where the steel cages were kept. Her gaze instantly locked on the familiar shape of her brother, a myriad of emotions flickering through their gray depths. Relief to see him. Concern when she saw his unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. Fury that he was in a _cage_ like some sort of wild animal. Olivia turned to look at Hannibal then, her dark eyes saying what her mouth did not. You did this to him.

"Olivia?" Will's shocked voice snapped her away from Hannibal like a bloodhound catching the scent. She was down the steps and in front of his cage before any of them could even blink. They stood there, drinking in each other's presence, Olivia standing still to let Will know that yes, she was here. "What are you doing here?" He breathed, his face full of concern and relief. Hannibal watched with interest as the tension leaked out of Will's shoulders at the sight of his sister.

"I came home early. I wanted to surprise you before Christmas." She whispered, overcome by the haggard figure her brother had become. "Turns out you surprised me instead." She chuckled without humor, hands balling the hem of her dress before releasing it just as quickly.

Whirling to face Dr. Chilton, she masked her face into one of sisterly desperation. It wasn't too hard to replicate. "Can you open the door? Just for a moment?"

Dr. Chilton chuckled condescendingly at the ridiculous request. "I'm afraid that's completely impossible, my dear." Everyone in the room except for Chilton noticed her bristle at the snide endearment. "Your brother is a serial killer, we can't just let him out."

Time for the big guns, she thought. The best way to get what she wanted was to feed his fat ego. "Please? I feel completely safe with you here. I know that you've helped Will so much. And he would never hurt me. I just want to hug him. Please?" She let her eyes fill with tears and made a big show of fighting them off. Hannibal shifted next to Dr. Bloom, entertained by her display. His small smile almost blew her cover.

She was such a nice girl. Why couldn't anyone else trust him with Will's mind like she did? Dr. Chilton's expression softened in mercy. "I suppose a few minutes wouldn't hurt. And Will knows better than to act out, right Will?" He asked patronizingly.

Will opened his mouth to tell the incompetent doctor where to put his grasping opinions, but a quick look from his sister quickly shut him up. He simply nodded sullenly. Chilton waved to the orderly lurking in the corner to unlock the cage.

Olivia spared the orderly a look. He was downright creepy. She'd have to revisit that feeling later, because soon the cage was open and she'd flung herself into Will's arms with the force of a speeding bullet.

Shaky arms slowly snaked around her, confirming her thought that he hadn't been 100% sure that she was real. She burrowed closer in his chest to obliterate his doubts. He was too thin and he smelled like sweat and fear, but she focused on the fact that he was _alive_ and here with her in this moment. A tear dripped on her shoulder. Closing her eyes to keep her own tears at bay, she pulled him closer. "It's okay Will." She whispered in his ear. "I'm here. I'm real. I'm not going anywhere." She leaned in closer, her lips an inch from his ear. "And I know that this wasn't you, it was _him_." He tensed in her arms.

Will pulled himself out of her embrace, face contorted in worry. "Liv, you can't. He's too dangerous." He whispered feverishly, blue eyes sweeping over her face.

"I think that's long enough. Come on out, my dear." Dr. Chilton's voice cut through the sibling's reunion. Irritation flitted across her face before her forehead smoothed out again.

Seeing the desperation fill her older brother, she cupped his face, her smile small but genuine. "Don't worry about that now. I didn't come here to talk about work." The smile grew into a wolf-like grin. "I came here to show off." She kissed his cheek and squeezed his hands before slowly stepping out of his cage, smile falling away as it was closed and locked again.

Composing himself quickly — and proving that they really were related – Will sat back down in the cage and studied her with a profiler's eye. She'd filled out over the many months she'd been away. The baby fat was starting to melt into feminine curves — he'd probably have to start chasing boys off soon. Dance had obviously put some muscle on her; that hug of hers had sorta hurt. The shadows that had haunted her eyes before she left had cleared, and he was relieved and grateful to see it. She'd looked so broken and afraid before she'd left for Europe, but now she was stronger. She held herself with a confidence he'd secretly always wanted – the unwavering control he'd always lacked radiating off her small form.

She smirked under his stare, her eyebrow quirking as if to say 'you done yet?' He shrugged, knowing that she couldn't turn off the profiling either.

It was nice to be understood and loved so utterly and completely. Nobody knew him like she did. Alana liked to try, Chilton liked to pretend, Hannibal liked to assume, but Olivia was different. Not only did she know him, but she _understood_ him. And she never tried to change him. God, he'd missed her.

A crawling grin sprawled across his face as he leaned back against the cage wall behind him. "Don't tell me that all that time in Europe only gave you a fat head?" He asked teasingly, his smile growing as she laughed, the innocent sound banishing the horrors from his mind like sunshine parting heavy rainclouds. His gaze flickered over to their audience for the barest of moments, missing his glasses in that second; they gave him an excuse to avoid eye contact. Will could feel the stares from here.

Will Graham making a joke? Alana couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Will smile like that. The transformation was stunning to see to say the least. Olivia installed some sort of brotherly confidence in Will. It awakened a side of him that neither Hannibal nor his associates had seen before. It was clear to see that they were each other's lifeline. Will loved his sister unconditionally, but Hannibal also knew that Will was fond of others, examples being Alana, Abigail, and Georgia. He saw his sister in them and treated them as if they were his own flesh and blood. Will leant his kind heart out to others he saw who needed it. His morals were strong and unwavering.

But one look at Olivia told him that Will was the only person that meant something to her. The rest of the world could burn for all she cared as long as her brother was alright. She'd already proved this by playing Chilton like a fiddle, a manipulation that would allow for future visits. She felt no inhibitions bending the rules to get what she wanted. Hannibal stored that piece of information away for later.

Olivia smirked, sliding her bag off her shoulders and gracefully falling into a sitting position. She tugged off her jacket, folding it and setting it aside. Her scarf soon joined it."It also gave me a taste for the finer cuisine in life." That caught Hannibal's attention. "You really haven't lived until you've enjoyed a fresh broccoli and seafood quiche right off the shores of Venice." Hannibal smiled to himself. His own sister had loved quiche too.

She pulled the bag open, carefully pulling out a pair of black pointe shoes. The tips were worn slightly around the edges, and in some parts the black cloth was rubbed away completely. It was rare to see pointe shoes come in such a dark color – mostly they were a light pink. Hannibal figured they must be custom fitted shoes. "I'm here to show you a small sample of what I've been working on for all this time." She grinned at Will as she yanked off her converse and socks, setting them aside.

Reaching into the pointe shoe, she pulled out a pair of toe pads and pulled them over her toes. She maneuvered her body so she wasn't facing the small crowd in front of her and adjusted her body so her foot was flat on the ground and her knee was bent at a ninety degree angle. Hannibal was grateful she'd moved; he didn't trust Dr. Chilton not to look up the young woman's skirt. Wrapping the ribbon around her ankle with practiced ease, her face was as bored as his would be if he was simply tying his shoes.

Soon both shoes were tightly secured in place and she was back on her feet with that eerie boneless grace her entire body obtained. Her steps were light to make sure that the wooden box at her toe didn't make too much noise. She headed back over to where Alana, Jack, Dr. Chilton, and Hannibal were all waiting. Olivia kept her eyes on Alana. "Are you done with that cup, Dr. Bloom?" She asked, her tone perfectly polite, but tinged with ice. Hannibal could tell Olivia didn't care for the older woman, and filed that information away to study later as well.

Alana blinked a few times, staring down at the almost empty cup of coffee in her hand. "Um, yes." She said, handing it over silently. The younger woman just smiled in response before heading back over to Will's cage without another word.

She pulled off the lid, setting it aside and knocking back the last bits of coffee left inside. She pulled out her phone, yanking out the earbuds before searching for the song she had in mind. Olivia pressed play and placed her phone in the cup, the sound instantly growing louder as her makeshift speaker did its job.

Jack was the first to follow her, calling out over his shoulder. "We'd probably have a better view from over by who the real audience is."

The group quickly followed, Hannibal slowly trailing behind. Will had finally caught sight of him, his dark eyes darting between his stretching sister and his former psychiatrist. Tension wracked his entire form.

"Will." Hannibal greeted, nodding once before going to stand beside Alana, using the woman as a buffer between them. Hannibal wanted to remain focused on the younger Graham's performance at the moment, and Will would just distract him.

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next up - just how good at dancing is Miss Olivia Graham? And finally, the title will make sense! thanks for being patient


	6. Chapter 6

just a heads up, this chapter is super short - sorry about that

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Olivia stood in fourth position in the middle of the "visitor's center" of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, raised herself up on her toes, then lifted one leg so that it pointed at the ceiling above her head. She twirled on her toe, and launched herself into a perfect swan jump.

She danced around an invisible partner, encircling them with _attitudes derrière_. She beckoned them with sensual, fluid movements of her wrists and arms. Hannibal could practically see beautiful black wings sprouting from her back. Olivia coyly fluttered around her partner, eyes downcast, lips formed into a delicate pout. She performed a series of _piqué tours en dehors_ effortlessly, her feet practically soundless on the stone floor. As the dance continued, her movements become even more graceful, shoulder blades drawn together, every joint supple and arms outstretched. She all but floated across the ground. The song expanded in volume, violins and trumpets accompanying her bounding _brisés_ and _grands jetés_ and, as the music built, consecutive _fouettè pirouettes,_ ending on one pointed toe, her arms outstretched like wings and her other leg up behind her. She held it for a moment as the music changed. Olivia fluidly moved into a seductive _épaulement_ and then into a stunning _renversé_ , all the while flashing beguiling glances over her shoulder.

"That's from Swan Lake. She's about to start the thirty-two _fouettè pirouettes_ of the Black Swan _pas de deux_ ," Will said softly, entranced by his stunning sister. When she danced, it was easy to forget that a cage separated them. Instead they were back at the farmhouse while she twirled around him, laughing delightedly as dogs licked her outstretched hands. It was easy to forget that his brain had been on fire for weeks, and that the one person he'd started to trust more than anyone — besides Liv — was a cannibalistic monster. Her poetic grace had always had that power over him. This was her signature dance, and her months in Europe had only honed her already perfect technique.

"It's beautiful," Alana breathed, watching. The young woman had been frigid in her politeness towards Alana, but her psychiatrist mind wasn't offended by it. It was obvious that Olivia was used to it being just Will and her against the world, and didn't care for another female to be in her brother's life. It was something that both of them would have to get used to, since Alana hadn't even known of the young woman's existence until this morning. But it was easy to see that Olivia's presence had a positive affect on Will, and that made her okay in Alana's book.

Hannibal remained silent, overwhelmed by the beauty and skill this small young woman possessed. When she'd told him that she was a dancer, he'd assumed intermediate dancing, not the poetic story she was telling simply through her body. This was her passion — Hannibal could see it etched in every corner of her face. She was in her element, and it showed. It was art in the purest form he marveled as she continued to spin in front of them. How her feet endured the enormous amount of pressure she was inflicting was beyond him. Her ankles didn't shake once. Even Dr. Chilton was impressed. Hannibal was drowning in her enchanting scent, each turn permeating the room with the smell of roses.

Olivia's face remained peaceful and smooth, despite the staggering amount of work and strain she was putting her body through. Each _fouettè_ turn seemed effortless, her dress fluttering around her hips and taunting her audience with flashes of her upper leg. As the coda climbed to the climax, Olivia performed a series of fluid and smooth _echappé sautés_ before rising again onto her toes, her arms raised above her head in fifth position, eyes closed. The final note rang out before silence fell over the large room once more.

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i warned you. i made the french ballet terms italicized so if you wanted to look them up and see how they work, it would make your life easier. also, here is a link to the full Black Swan Pas de Deux on youtube, in case my writing wasn't good enough (understandable) to convey how it looks and flows [note that it will look different because Olivia doesn't have a partner for all the lifts and such]

watch?v=VtEQ-BnNNl8


	7. Chapter 7

thank you so much for all the support i'm getting - you guys are the best!

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Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. The hum that had filled the air as soon as she started to move fizzled away, leaving behind a stunned stillness. The hushed silence that had washed over the small audience was interrupted by Dr. Chilton's obnoxious clapping. Hannibal shot the man a disapproving look that went unnoticed. He'd rudely broken the spell that Olivia had weaved. If he wasn't so entertained by Chilton's attempts at dress-up, he would've killed the man years ago.

Olivia slowly lowered herself back into first position, trying to slow her breathing down. No matter how many times she practiced it, those 32 _fouettès_ always snatched her breath away. Finally she stepped back and sighed. Her posture was relaxed, but nothing less than that. The dancer in her refused to let herself slouch. She didn't even bother looking at her other audience members – her eyes were for Will alone. She beamed at her brother, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. Hannibal had never seen her look so alive. "See? I told you all those months away weren't for nothing." She puffed, pushing the stray hairs out of her face once more.

"They certainly weren't." Will replied, still in awe of her performance. "You've really improved since I've seen you last, Liv. You've come into your own when it comes to the Black Swan. It truly is an art form when you dance. You did those _fouettès_ effortlessly. I can't wait to see more of what you've been working on. If it's anything like that—" he paused, grinning. "I'm more than ready to see it." Olivia blushed prettily as her brother praised her. It was clear for the rest of the group to see that his opinion meant the world to her.

"That was quite impressive, Olivia." Hannibal complemented, stepping forward and smiling down at her. He didn't miss how Will's eyes narrowed as Hannibal spoke to his little sister. His blue gaze darted between the two, wary and unable to help.

"Thank you, Dr. Lecter." She graciously said, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her skirt. Her prior fear was still lurking in the back of her mind, but she felt sure now that she'd danced her place into safety, at least for the moment.

"I wonder, why did you chose the Black Swan pas de deux? That dance is the prince's doom, if I recall the plot correctly." Hannibal asked as he studied her with those maroon eyes, the french words easily tumbling from his lips; his accent was impeccable.

"Personally I never liked Odette's character. I'm not sure why, but I always felt like she could've reacted better to losing her prince — killing yourself is tragically poetic it's true, but not practical or realistic. There's something... powerful about knowing all the rules while the rest of the characters are bumbling around in the dark. It's more entertaining for me to trick the prince into thinking I'm his Swan Princess, when at my core I'm the Black Swan. Besides," Olivia shrugged "where's the fun in being the good guy?" She smiled guilelessly at Hannibal before sliding past him and towards her bag. Hannibal's eyes followed her wonderingly.

Will didn't like the fascination Hannibal Lecter had for his baby sister. And he couldn't protect her from inside this stupid state hospital. Raw panic began to claw its way in the pit of his stomach. If Liv found out more about Lector she wouldn't be able to stay away, and the psychiatrist would deal with her like he dealt with Beverly. He knew his sister like the back of his hand, just as she knew him.

As soon as it was clear that she had the same empathetic abilities that had claimed him for the past 16 years, he'd fought desperately to keep her safe and attempted to show her how to stay protected inside her own mind. But to his surprise after only one serious incident — one that she still never talked about — she had complete and utter control over the empathy. Will had been jealous for years, and even now sitting on the wrong side of the bars he couldn't stop the painful twinge in his gut when he saw her stare down Hannibal Lecter fearlessly, so secure in her own mind.

Like himself, Olivia Graham was smarter than her unassuming age revealed. It had become startlingly clear at a young age that she was different intellect-wise than the other kids at their school. She was miles ahead of them and bored in every single one of her classes. It became a problem when she entertained herself by "playing dress up" — assuming the characteristics of her classmates. Her little distraction was not unlike the beginning steps to profiling. It wasn't full empathy, but the signs were all there. The innocent game grew dangerous as she delved deeper into stranger's psyches.

Having already graduated early from high school himself, Will decided to take her out of grade school and home school her on his own. He worried that Olivia would get swept away in a profile and start to lose a grip on herself — something that he himself had struggled with when he was her age. The flexible hours of homeschool was what allowed her to become so dedicated to ballet. He'd soon discovered that she had a knack for puzzles. Math puzzles, word puzzles, logic puzzles – it didn't matter what kind. She could solve them in an instant. Or work at them tirelessly until she was successful. This became a slight problem when the empathy ability was discovered.

Olivia wanted to solve people. Find out what made them tick. Root around in their heads and figure out what their internal issue was. Of course, most of the time she was too young to understand about filtering her words and Will would get scathing glares from strangers as his baby sister spewed out their thoughts in the grocery store. At some moments Will worried that his analytical, puzzle-solving little sister was turning into stone when she wasn't in another's head; she didn't seem to care about how her actions affected others. And when he'd started teaching at Quantico, she hadn't showed a wink of pity for the victims. At least at first. So Will had trained her, had taught her. Had given her the chance he'd never had at her age to become normal. He poured love into her in hopes that she in turn would lend it out to others besides himself.

Yet her thirst for puzzles remained. And Dr. Hannibal Lecter was probably the most complex puzzle she'd ever encountered, or probably would ever encounter. Will knew with a sinking heart as he watched the telltale head tilt that he couldn't keep her away from Lecter – that probably nobody could. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. His jaw tensed and his eyes hardened. He would keep his baby sister safe no matter what it took, he swore it.

Olivia managed to pry her gaze away from the confusing doctor, striding back over towards her brother. He schooled his features to hide his thoughts from her, but couldn't stop the smug smirk from curling the corners of his mouth. No matter how fascinated she was with Hannibal Lector, Olivia would always choose Will over him.

"The Black Swan Pas de deux is the crowning jewel of my dancing repertoire." She told him, grinning. "I'll come by again and show you more... if you want." She added quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Will grinned at the sight of her self-conscious blush. He'd forgotten how young she really was. With everything they'd been through, she'd always acted beyond her years. It was hard to remember that she was only a teenager. "I would want nothing more, Liv." He told her honestly, his eyes assuring her that nothing had really changed — he still loved her. He knew who he was, and more importantly, what she meant to him.

She nodded softly, shoulders relaxing as she saw that he was doing okay — not 100% by a long shot, but okay. She beamed at him before turning to look at Dr. Chilton, her face flushed with sisterly joy. "Is there any private room where Will and I can talk? Catch up a little?" She asked, face hopeful.

Dr. Chilton looked at her as if she'd asked if her brother could waltz right out the front door. "I'm afraid this is already too much excitement for dear Will. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Perhaps you can visit another time?" He smiled thinly. "Due call first."

All of the light that had entered Olivia's eyes at the sight of her older brother faded away in that moment. Her entire body sagged as if she was a marionette doll whose strings had just been cut. Olivia shook her head mutely before turning to look at Will, eyes wide with panic. She couldn't leave now. She just got here. She couldn't leave Will alone in this horrible place with this horrible doctor and at the same time she couldn't go back to that house full of dogs but void of Will. Olivia was shocked to find tears clogging up her throat.

Hannibal's hands, hidden deep inside his pants pockets, curled into two tight fists. The broken, frightened expression on Olivia Graham's face twisted something inside of him. The slight sheen to her glistening eyes told him that she was fighting tears. He cleared his throat, trying to flush his sympathy away. This wasn't like him. But the more he stared the angrier he became. His fingernails bit into his palms. There was no reason for Chilton to be rude to the young girl.

He turned from the useless psychiatrist to look at the girl in question. She stood in front her brother's cage, her arms slowly snaking around her own waist, as if that action alone could keep herself together. His keen senses picked up her broken whisper. "But-but I just got here..." She trailed off, misty eyes scanning the room unseeingly, until locking gazes with her brother.

Dr. Chilton didn't seem to notice Olivia's emotional struggle. All he cared about was keeping the power he held over Will Graham, who'd so easily dismissed him before. Perhaps if he limited visiting hours, he could convince Miss Graham to an interview about the siblings. He stepped forward, gesturing to the orderly as he spoke. "Mr. Brown, would you be so kind as to take Mr. Graham back to his room. I'm sure he needs to rest after all this excitement." He said smoothly, an oily smirk twisting his small mouth. It was apparent that this small man got off on having power over others. He had no trouble at all separating the Graham siblings.

Will's jaw clenched. Liv looked incredibly young, her dark eyes darting over his face as if she was memorizing it. Her hands were trembling and her eyes were glassy. His protective instincts kicked in, wanting nothing more than to pull her in his arms again and never let her go. He couldn't leave her like this. Will surged forward against the bars before the orderly even took a step; Olivia met him halfway instinctively. Will was the center of her world, and she gravitated towards him just like the moon did the earth. He grabbed her hands through the bars in his calloused ones, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on the back of her hand. "It's gonna be okay, Liv. _I'm_ going to be okay." He said quickly, even as Chilton signaled for the orderly to "control him."

She shook her head against his lies. This place was poisoning him. "I'm gonna get you out of here Will." She whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling but her eyes steely. "I promise."

The orderly grabbed Olivia's upper arms and roughly yanked her away from the bars, his grip strong enough to leave bruises. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement.

Will's face hardened in anger as she was shoved to the side, tripping and falling to her knees. "Don't touch her." He growled lowly, his voice unrecognizable. He was no longer the awkward and uncomfortable Will Graham, but an untamed and uncontrollable wolf protecting his pup, his eyes colder than ice and his face as hard as stone.

Olivia scrambled back to her feet. "I'm okay." She assured him, voice strained.

The anger remained, but the tension leaked out of his shoulder. At least until the orderly started to unlock the cage. His face drained of color and his blue eyes dulled.

"No, Please!" She cried out, hating the way the orderly locked her big brother up in iron shackles, hating the way he was pulled carelessly and forcefully from the cage, and hating the way his dark eyes were slowly filling with listless fear and shadows she couldn't beat back.

"Be careful Liv." Will said, eyes darting over to Hannibal, before being dragged around the corner and out of her sight.

It was over so quickly that nobody had time to react. Crawford had watched the interaction with interest. The way Will had talked and joked with Olivia showed no signs of the cold-blooded killer that the world perceived him to be. And the anger he just displayed was normal behavior for a protective older sibling defending his little sister — none of his actions reflected the horrendous and vicious crimes he was committed for. Crawford frowned, not liking how the young girl was treated, but knowing that he could do nothing to stop it.

Alana was appalled at the callous manner Chilton had viciously separated the obviously close siblings. Her disgust for the small man multiplied tenfold as she watched Olivia rub her aching upper arms, her slender fingers trembling. Alana's nurturing instinct told her to go and comfort the young girl but common sense reminded her of the youngest Graham's frosty nature towards strangers.

Hannibal was taking deep breaths, relying on his iron control more in that moment than any other. The only giveaway to his fiery rage was his small step forward, but he'd checked himself just in time before acting rashly towards the orderly. The punishment would come later, he promised himself, chest nearly heaving at the sight of the teen's bruised arms.

"Well." Chilton sighed, tapping his cane once against the stone floor. The man was completely oblivious to the emotions filling the room, his condescending and smug tone nearly driving Hannibal over the edge. "I'm sure you can see yourselves out." He nodded his head once in the direction of the front door. "I must take notes on this... fascinating interaction. Miss Graham, please feel free to talk to me about Will's relationship with yourself anytime you're free, I'm sure my findings would be quite helpful for your brother's rehabilitation." He smiled thinly at them once more before hobbling back to his office.

After a few awkward moments, Crawford followed, his thoughts torn between recruiting the youngest Graham to his team and caring for his dying wife. Soon Alana, Hannibal, and Olivia were left in the room. The adults turned to look at the teen standing alone in the main hall.

She looked lost and broken, standing apart from them by the cages. Her vacant stare was transfixed on where she last saw Will, unshed tears glistening under the fluorescent lights. Her hands were limp at her sides, missing her brother's warm touch. Hannibal had never seen the usually lively and sharp girl look so empty and vulnerable.

Alana's heart went out to the poor thing. This young girl was obviously traumatized by the harsh realization that her older brother — who was probably a role model for the girl since he was (most likely) her only living relative — was a serial killer. Alana imagined that Olivia was struggling with this knowledge — as much as she did herself when Will revealed his true nature to the public eye. She was about to reach out to the youngest Graham when her colleague beat her to it.

"Would you like to have lunch, Olivia? It's only a short walk from this place to my home." Hannibal could see Alanna stare at him in surprise out of the corner of his eye. Honestly, he was surprised with himself as well. Olivia Graham spelled nothing but trouble for Hannibal, but he couldn't stand seeing that broken look on her pretty features.

His sudden question seemed to break Olivia out of her trance. The sound of his voice brought her eyes snapping up to look at him, but it took a second for his words to register. She managed to reign in her reaction, but Hannibal could see her eyes widen in shock ever so slightly. Clearing her throat, she replied. "That would be nice, thank you." Her voice was small, the spark that fueled her missing.

She looked down at her black pointe shoes, an angry flush staining her cheeks. Why had she thought that she could just dance away Will's problems? It was stupid. And she'd only seen him for barely half an hour until that troll Chilton carted him off. Who knew when she'd be able to see him again? Another wave of tears nearly overcame her. But sitting here moping about it wouldn't help Will — and wasn't that her purpose now? To solve the puzzle that incriminated her innocent brother?

Her spine straightened; her spirit wasn't broken yet — there was still hope. The light she'd seen in Will's eyes lightened the load on her shoulders as she stood completely straight once more. Whatever Dr. Lecter had done to him — she knew she didn't have proof, but she did blame him for clearing Will to go into the field — hadn't completely ruined her older brother yet.

Olivia's gaze flickered up to the man in question. He puzzled her, prodded at her empathy like a splinter in her palm. From an untrained eye he seemed harmless enough, although his large frame seemed intimidating. She imagined that a stranger would never find a man who dressed as nicely or talked as smoothly as Dr. Lecter frightening. But she could barely peek underneath his mask, could just see the predator that lurked beneath his skin. The flashes of insight were too brief to be certain, but more one-on-one time would give her more opportunities to figure him out, and possibly lead him away from his original plan of morphing her brother into a killer like him if he really was who she guessed. It was too early to know Hannibal's true intentions, but having a loose idea never hurt anybody.

The fact was that she would do anything to keep Will safe, keep the small monster she knew that lurked inside of him at bay, was a weakness of hers. Her brother wasn't a bad person, not by a long shot. But it was her cynical belief that a little bit of monster lived inside of everyone, and it only took a few nudges in one direction or another to either keep it locked away or set it free. This wasn't the first time she'd waded inside her brother's psyche — she knew exactly what he could become, what ruthlessness he was capable of if prodded in the right direction. And Hannibal had proven to be very good at prodding.

Curiosity nibbled at the inside of her brain. What was Hannibal capable of if prodded in a different direction? She bit her lip before turning back to her bag and swiftly changing into her converse. Olivia pushed her notepad to the side and tucked her pointe shoes away safely in the bottom of her bag. She'd hoped to have a chance to share her findings with Will on the Chesapeake Ripper, but Chilton forced her to wait until their next meeting. Maybe by then she'd have more to add to the profile.

Her dancer's grace made it seem like she floated up the steps to where Hannibal was waiting for her, Alana having left when she saw that she wasn't needed.

They faced each other, opposing forces standing across a battlefield. Time would only tell if one force would straddled the line. Challenging gray met curious maroon. This was going to be interesting, Olivia mused to herself wryly.

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just what will happen when Olivia and Hannibal are alone once again? Will Hannibal finally decide that she is too much of a risk, or will he try to bring her under his wing?


	8. Chapter 8

sorry for the lack of updates but I've been craaaazzzy busy - enjoy!

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"It's very kind of you to do this for me, Dr. Lecter." Olivia murmured gratefully as they strolled down the street towards his home. She felt safer now that the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was behind them. Everything about that place made her feel uneasy and trapped. The cold stone oozed madness.

"It would be rude of me to leave you behind to fend for yourself, Olivia." He replied smoothly, straightening an invisible wrinkle in his immaculate suit. A thought struck him as he led her across the street. He turned to look at her then as they walked. "Did you eat breakfast?" he asked.

A charming blush stained her cheeks as she rolled her eyes at him. Somehow he wasn't annoyed with the rude gesture as he would've been if anyone else had done it in his presence. Flashes of his sister's annoyed smile danced behind his eyes. "Now you sound like Will." She grumbled, a wry smile quirking her mouth. Her keen eyes picked up on the far-away look on her companion's face and filed it away to study later. "Will was taken into custody a while ago, so all the food in the house went bad." Olivia studied the cement in front of her, watched as each gray shoe walked forward one step at a time. "And it's not like I have a bountiful amount of money to buy groceries." The last sentence came out mumbled, but Hannibal could just make it out.

"Well I'll have to fix that, then," he said with a small smile.

They walked a few paces, an uneasy silence blanketing over them. Hannibal could see out of the corner of his eye that Olivia was wrestling with something. He waited patiently for her to work up the courage to speak; they were almost at his house anyways. His ego swelled at the fact that she was cautious around him.

"I hear that you're a talented chef, Dr. Lecter." She finally spoke, voice strained. She remembered the look on Will's face when he'd seen this tall man walking beside her. There hadn't been a doubt in her brother's mind who — or what — Hannibal was and what he'd done. Will had good instincts, but she had to be sure. His brain had been seriously enflamed for several months, after all.

His eyes ticked over to her profile, face completely blank. "Really? I'll take that as a compliment." The words were carefully articulated and served with a false smile. Hannibal ignored the tickle in the back of his brain, the early warning system he'd always trusted in the past. For some reason when he looked at this young woman, the only feelings that coursed through him was protectiveness and curiosity. Strange.

"This is it here." He said, guiding her up the long driveway to the towering house that waited for them. He studied her as she took in his house, fascinated by her behavior. He could practically see the gears in her clever mind working, trying to fit him into this regal house.

It was a well-kept home, which didn't surprise Olivia in the slightest; everything about the man beside her was organized and orderly. A strange sense of excitement washed over her as she walked up the stairs leading to the small stoop outside the front door. Hannibal Lecter was proving to be a difficult puzzle, and something as important as his home was bound to give her more insight into his character as a whole. She murmured her thanks when he held the front door open for her.

Lavish textures defined the house. Hannibal's home was an enclave for the finer things in life, a world set apart from any other space she'd ever entered. She admired the rich textures and fabrics: a quiet display of Hannibal's wealth. She hadn't been inside a place this grand since the beautiful opera houses of Europe. She figured they must've been a source of inspiration for the psychiatrist beside her, being a native after all.

"May I take your coat?" Hannibal offered with a charming smile, having taken off his own as soon as he closed the front door.

Watching him carefully, Olivia swung off her bag and set it by her feet. As she went to shrug off her coat, Hannibal stepped up behind her, gently lifting her jacket off her shoulders and sliding it down her arms. He was very careful to not touch her skin in any way, keenly aware of her unease. Olivia resisted the urge to shiver even though he was a perfect gentleman; knowing that a wolf was nearby didn't make it any less frightening. "Thank you." She managed to say, picking her bag back up and slinging it back over her shoulder, declining his silent offer to hang it up by her coat. Olivia knew exactly what he was up to.

His eyes were the only things that gave him away. They darted between her and the bag just once before narrowing imperceptibly as he nodded and walked away to hang up their coats. His shoulders were stiff with frustration. Rattling the cage bars and changing the scenes. She smirked.

The living room was accented by emerald green chairs and curtains, and on display was a beautiful piano. On closer inspection Olivia realized that it was the harpsichord Hannibal had mentioned earlier; the grandfather of the piano. Instead of having one larger keyboard, the harpsichord had two smaller ones, stacked one above the other. Curious, she pressed down the low C.

The sound was more formal and precise than the sonorous, romantic piano. The brittle, clipped manner of the note reflected Hannibal himself Olivia mused to herself. The harpsichord was elegant and charming from afar, and its exotic appearance drew people in. She frowned down at the instrument. It was a pity, the only songs she knew were for the piano Will had in the front room at home.

She wandered on, curiosity overcoming her mild fear.

The rich tones didn't end in the living room. The dining room was extravagant. The walls were made of stacked wood moldings, a style Olivia had seen during her time in Europe. The wood was stained a deep indigo blue. It reminded her of the night sky. This was his theater, she realized, taking in the opulence, how each detail was perfect and precise. This was where he played dress up as the friendly host and smiled his friendly Cheshire Cat smile as his guests devoured his food. The long dining table led to french doors which hinted sunshine through the warped glass. Olivia gulped as her hand slid down the slick wood. It gleamed back menacingly.

"Olivia?"

She almost jumped when he called her name. "Here!" She called back, quickly running her fingers through her hair. There was nothing to be afraid of, she commanded herself. It was just a room. But her heart continued to race, Will's warning ringing in her ears.

Hannibal took in her conflicted expression in a single glance as he entered his dining room. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking. "The kitchen is this way, follow me." He said with a welcoming smile, grateful he wasn't the only one who felt uneasy about their circumstances.

The kitchen, too, reflected Hannibal's orderly and highly visceral taste. It was a kitchen any professional chef would kill for. She walked in slowly, quietly taking the room in. This was the most important room to her host, meaning every detail must be absorbed carefully.

It enveloped her in corporeal surfaces while remaining strict. The top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances winked up ominously, spotless like everything else in his home. His perfectionism was almost OCD level, a reflection of his need for complete control. The center island was also stainless steel with pale gray leather panels on the front and sides. Another table stood perpendicular to the island. It looked like an autopsy table to Olivia. She admired the travertine counter and backsplash, running her fingers against the smooth stone. Cold seeped into her bones, but she felt herself start to relax.

Somehow here, in the heart of his home where Hannibal worked, she felt at peace. The brutal honesty of the room washed over her like a cleansing palate to the tongue. There were no secrets here. If one looked with clear eyes, they could see Hannibal's true nature in this room. The brutality and cold character of stone and steel, the unforgiving sharp edge to every surface, the calm and cool colors of the space.

Hannibal watched in fascination as the tension slowly leaked out of Olivia's neck and shoulders. If she knew who he was and what he did — and at this point he wasn't sure _what_ she thought about him — he wouldn't have thought that she'd find peace in his kitchen. His workspace. "Please, sit." He pulled out a stool for her at the opposite side of the counter. She followed his thinly veiled command complacently, her eyes still roaming about the massive kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?"

Hannibal was the picture perfect host, Olivia mused grimly. His impeccable manners made it easier for him to do his work — whatever that work was, for she was sure it was something nefarious — and never be noticed. She finally found her voice. "Water, please." She said, remembering her manners. He nodded once before getting a glass for her and filling it.

"What would you like to eat?" He asked, gently placing the glass in front of her and turning towards the massive refrigerator. She took a slow sip, her mouth quirking into a smirk around the rim.

"I doubt that you have anything in your freezer that will do." She replied, cradling the glass in her cupped hands.

He quirked a brow at her over his shoulder, surprised by her boldness. His hand tightened around the handle of the fridge.

"I'm a pescatarian. Have been for as long as I can remember." Another smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, enjoying the way she could toy with him. This mongoose has sharper teeth than you realize. "I get the feeling that you're a protein kinda guy, so unless you have some sort of seafood packed away in your giant freezer, I don't think I'll be able to eat that." Her words said nothing and everything. It was a game, really. To push and pull, insinuate while meaning nothing at all. She smiled into her glass. This is for you, Will.

He mulled over her words, frustrated that she could mess around with him so easily. "I'm sure I have something that will work for you." He said calmly, his tone betraying nothing. She watched him stride confidently through the kitchen, a king in his domain. He pulled out multiple different items, setting them on his massive island before moving on to grab something else. Each movement was fluid and confident. "How do omelettes sound?" He asked, pulling out a skillet and flipping on the heat on his stove.

She smiled up at him, both hands wrapped around her glass. "That sounds perfect, Dr. Lecter. Thank you."

"If we're going to be dining together, I must insist we set titles aside." He said, opening a carton of organic eggs and pulling a clear glass bowl over to him. Smirking quietly, his grabbed his metal spatula and flipped the egg up into the air, watching with satisfaction has it landed perfectly on the waiting edge of the spatula. The yolk fell into the bowl without a trace of egg shell.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, charmed that he was showing off for her. "Impressive, Hannibal. Would you like any help, or do you _insist_ that I sit here and watch you cook?" She smiled teasingly, letting him know exactly what she thought of him telling her what to do.

He couldn't stop the boyish smile that bloomed across his face. It felt alien, something from a forgotten time. It was nice to talk to someone not terrified of offending him, not bound by the rules of professionalism. Will had been like that too, able to toe the line without fully crossing it. He dipped his head once. "I apologize. I would love the assistance."

She knew that relinquishing control wasn't a small thing for the tall Lithuanian. This wasn't a simple whim just to remain mannerly. She also knew that he trusted her about as much as she did him.

Hannibal pushed a cutting board across the invisible line between them. "You can cut the peppers, mushrooms, and onions." He decided, passing the various ingredients over to her. "Do you know how to cut them without hurting yourself?" Hannibal paused before passing her a knife, piercing her with a hard look.

"I can manage. But I'm completely open to advice — you are the expert." She was surprised by how pleased she was when he placed the top-of-the-line knife in her waiting palm. It took some serious trust for him to willingly give her a weapon. The metal was surprisingly warm in her hand.

Under Hannibal's watchful eye, Olivia started cutting the peppers. Every once in a while he would show her an easier way to do it, and she accepted the pointers with grace and gratitude. He admired her manners and found himself enjoying her company. An easy going silence draped over them as they worked side by side. Hannibal slowly relaxed as each minute passed by and Olivia made no attempt to attack him with the extremely sharp knife he'd given her. They worked flawlessly, never once bumping into one another as they moved around the massive kitchen to grab various ingredients. Olivia knew that this was his domain and she respected that; not once did she try to take over.

"How long have you been a pescatarian?" He asked, thirsty for any information about his fascinating young guest.

She cocked her head to the side while she thought. "For about eleven years now. I wanted to be a full vegetarian, but growing up the majority of our food came from the river, so I had to settle with no meat except fish. Will doesn't understand my eating choice, and towards the beginning he tried to change my mind. But I wouldn't be swayed. I really enjoy this lifestyle, and vegetarian cuisine wasn't hard to find while I was in Europe."

Looking over the brim on his own glass, he studied the youngest Graham as she kept working. A few strands of dark curls had fallen from her bun and into her face. She swept them behind her ear between strokes of cutting the mushrooms. In his mind's eye he could see the mushrooms morphing into a human spleen, her face remaining calm as she sliced the meat into delicate pieces. Unbothered because she knew she wouldn't be eating it, unbothered because she had no taste for it, unbothered because she understood him. He blinked once and the mirage vanished, but the idea remained brewing in his mind.

She'd picked up the skill surprisingly quickly for someone who didn't have very much experience in the kitchen. A probable reason for that was that she never let ego get in her way. If she did something incorrectly and he showed her the proper way, she simply nodded and adapted. As she chopped, she hummed quietly under her breath, and although Hannibal didn't know what it was, he was confident it was from a ballet performance. Her slender fingers, tipped with black nail polish, swept the rest of the mushrooms into a neat pile, just like he'd shown her.

"All done." She told him, looking up from her cutting board. In three separate piles, finely chopped onions, peppers, and onions waited to be cooked. Her gray eyes were shining and she looked completely at ease at his side. It felt nice to have human company beside him again, he mused.

"Very well done Olivia. You picked up chopping quite quickly for someone who said they would 'manage.'" He said in approval as he swept half of the vegetables into the pan.

"Well that's cause I had a good teacher." She replied with a smile, washing her hands in the sink before returning back to her stool and glass of water. He smiled softly, splitting his focus between the young girl and the stove. "So why did you change careers? Going from a surgeon to a psychiatrist seems like quite the leap." She asked, finally breaking the companionable silence.

Hannibal paused briefly as he gently folded the fluffy omelette in half. A doctorate program had offered him an escape from the police force closing in on him in Florence, he thought grimly. "I got an internship at Johns Hopkins Medical Center for my drawings. I decided to follow that thread and here I am now." He replied, watching her through hooded eyes. Why was she questioning him?

She nodded absentmindedly, swirling one finger around the rim of her glass. She didn't look like she was on a warpath for information. "I'd love to see your artwork sometime. It must be quite good if you get an internship at a medical center." Olivia smiled up at him. After a few moment she spoke again, voice hard. "I'm going to be honest with you, Hannibal."

He gently lifted her omelette onto a china plate. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Olivia." He continued cooking his own as he slid her plate across the island. Rooting around in the fridge, he found leftover kidney sausage and sprinkled it into his omelette as well. Gauging her reaction, he looked up at her. He knew she had her suspicions of him, and witnessing Will's attitude towards him wouldn't have helped things.

She hadn't touched her food yet, waiting until his own meal was ready. Most of his guests didn't bother with manners. Her face remained calm, but her left leg started to bounce underneath the cabinet. Her eyes ticked once between the meat and his face. It was clear that she hadn't made a full assumption yet, but she had her ideas. Impressed by her calm attitude, he kept on cooking.

"I know Will would never do things like this. It's not in his nature. But everyone has a dark side, and I'm scared that his fear will drive him into doing something horrible." Her voice started shaking. She took another sip of water.

Hannibal considered her worries, lifting his own finished omelette onto another plate with careful fingers. It was true that Will would never commit murder willingly — the fact that he had nightmares for weeks following Garret Jacob Hobb's death proved that. But at the same time, Will struggled with huge amounts of fear on a daily basis, and that could be the final straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Flipping the stove off, he scooped up both his plate and glass and gestured to the dining hall. "Shall we discuss this in the other room?"

Nodding, she followed him through the doorway, still shaken up from the sudden honesty that she couldn't keep locked in her chest. They sat across from each other, a pitcher of water siting between them. "Usually I have more time to make a meal presentable before I have someone over." Hannibal explained, watching her watch him with those glass-like eyes.

"It's lovely." She assured him, cutting into her meal with the side of her fork. It was a stall to help her gain control. "I'm sorry for dumping this on you." She apologized as she stabbed her lunch, raising the fork to her mouth as her host stared openly. Rich flavor exploded on her tongue and she couldn't help but close her eyes as she savored it. "Wow," was all she could manage to say. Hannibal Lecter was quite the chef.

"Don't apologize. It's only natural to be worried about family." He told her gently, unreasonably pleased that she liked his cooking. He smiled down at his own food as he neatly cut into his omelette.

"I've never seen him like that before." She whispered to her plate, images of her brother's broken expression dancing behind her eyelids. "He looked scared — and that kind of fear can cloud the mind."

"A frightened animal is a dangerous thing."

Olivia's face hardened. "Will is _not_ an animal." Her vicious tone shocked Hannibal. Looking from a distance, it didn't seem like Olivia had that kind of savagery locked inside of her, but there it was. A wild tigress looked back at him now from across his dining room table, not Will Graham's worried little sister. For once, he had no words — his surprise blocked any form of communication.

She turned back down towards her food, shifting nervously in her seat. The anger that had descended on the room faded away and her shoulders relaxed. The tigress was gone, but not from his mind. He wondered what he would have to do to bring it back…

"I looked up to him growing up, you know?" Olivia kept talking, hoping that he'd let the moment go. "And he was always calm with me. He's never been good at socializing but we didn't need to be good at it to understand each other. There was no need for him to worry about scaring me off."

Intrigued, Hannibal pressed. "You two are very close then?"

Letting Hannibal into her mind was unwise. His words were slippery, and his calm and caring presence was easy to relax around. And if Olivia wanted to help Will, she needed to think clearly, and that meant remaining in control.

But crossing blades with Hannibal Lecter was proving to be too tempting. "Yes. Even though there's a massive age difference. Will and I have different mothers, although we both never knew them. His left, and mine died." She smiled humorlessly, shaking her head. "How cliché of me to talk about mothers, huh?"

Hannibal couldn't help but smile, and was shocked by how genuine it was. He hardly ever smiled and truly meant it, but here he was grinning like a schoolboy. He'd been doing it all afternoon, he realized. Interesting. "Will said as much when I asked him about his family." He liked seeing the similarities between the siblings. Seeing the small tethers connecting them. He pondered their differences as well.

Two people could play this game, she thought smugly. She shifted in her seat, popping another forkful of lunch into her mouth.

"It must've hurt that Will never talked about me to you. You see him as a friend, and friends don't keep big things like this from each other." Olivia smirked inwardly as Hannibal looked back down at his food, jaw clenching once. "It has nothing to do with you, though. He never told anyone about me — the only reason Jack knew was because he came to the house looking for Will one day but found me instead." She paused, organizing her swirling thoughts and memories. "Will raised me — he taught me all he could until I could stand on my own two feet without getting swept away. Will has always been my friend, brother, and first most — in his mind at least — protector. His world is dangerous and violent and all of his colleagues or friends are connected to that world. He would do anything to keep me separate from that." She smiled wanly down at her plate.

An unknown tension leaked out of Hannibal's chest at her words. She'd been right — he had felt betrayed when Olivia's identity had been revealed and he'd been in the dark. Hannibal was not one to be left in the dark. Unlike what most would think, Hannibal wasn't fond of the dark — things beyond his control lurked there. He liked seeing everything clearly from a safe distance. He had believed that Will trusted him with his secrets. Some of his hurt had faded when it became known that he wasn't the only one not in the know. But what remained vanished into smoke as Olivia explained her brother's actions.

There was something calming about talking to someone about her deepest thoughts. She could see why Hannibal was such a good psychiatrist. He could wear an open face as easily as she could an understanding one. She had mixed feelings seeing similarities between them. On one side, it was nice to know that she wasn't alone. But on the other, she wasn't sure what being similar to Hannibal Lecter meant. The temptation to talk proved to be too strong and she found herself speaking again.

"I know Will worries about me sometimes." She whispered, tracing the rim of her glass with her pointer finger. "That he fears that I'm turning into stone. He worries that the only compassion I can muster is for him and him alone." Olivia paused, toeing the edge of a steep cliff. Her eyes ticked up to watch the entranced man in front of her. Sucking in a deep breath, she leaped. "And he's right. I can't bring myself to care about the strangers or victims I see. I can empathize with them, see the world from their point of view, but then I shut it off and I don't care." She pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. "I know how to fake it well enough to keep Crawford and Will satisfied but sometimes…" Olivia cut herself off, eyes misty and bright. "The rest of the world could be set ablaze but as long as Will is alright then I say let it burn. I would do anything for him. I may be younger but I keep him safe. He lacks control." She turned to scowl at Hannibal. "Jack didn't keep him safe, Hannibal. And neither did you." Olivia glared at her empty plate. "I hate thinking about that creep Chilton rooting around in Will's head like a blind man. And I _know_ that this Chesapeake Ripper is the key to his innocence."

Hannibal held her gaze, determined to reveal nothing. His head was spinning with all the information she'd just offered to him. He took this treasured gift and held it close, knowing that, like him, trust didn't come easy to her. "And what makes you think that?" He queried.

Olivia stalled again, taking a slow drink of water. What was she thinking? She was practically leading him right to her findings. You have to be better than this, she told herself fiercely. You have to be better than _him_. "I agree with Will's statement that the Copycat killer and the Chesapeake Ripper are one and the same." She carefully dodged the question, but Hannibal was eyeing her, so she kept going. "Will didn't commit the Copycat Killer's crimes, even though somebody desperately wants us to. I think that that someone is the Chesapeake Ripper."

Hannibal polished off his own meal, dissecting her opinions thoroughly. She was working very hard not to tip her whole hand. He would have to prod discreetly if he wanted to know all her thoughts. Get her to trust him, just like he did with her brother. The only problem was that Olivia's mental state was far stronger than her brother's. She felt quite safe in her own mind — psychological tricks wouldn't work on her as they did for Will. And he doubted she'd let her guard down enough for him to slip drugs into her food or drink; she'd watched him like a hawk out of the corner of her eye when he was preparing her meal.

"But why would the Chesapeake Ripper frame Will? There isn't a connection between them." The lies fell easily from his thin lips, but even as he said them Olivia was shaking her head. She leaned back in her seat, eyes roving across the ceiling as she thought out loud.

"Since the Copycat and the Ripper are the same killer, it would take a tremendous amount of effort and control to hide evidence and keep up appearances. To maintain both forms of killing and mutilation while preventing them from bleeding into one another. Something started to slide. The Ripper started to feel the breath of the FBI down his neck. Somebody had to take the fall, and so it had to be Will." Her eyes glittered as she spoke. "The tricky part is to find what was starting to slip. And who had access to Will to blame him." Unconsciously, her gray eyes slid to meet his maroon ones.

Even though she was a threat to his freedom, Hannibal was enchanted by the way her mind worked. She was making jumps and connections that the Big Wigs at the FBI didn't see, even after working the case for months. The iron control she had gave her much more freedom to open and close doors as she pleased. Unlike Will, she didn't feel appalled by the Ripper's thoughts.

"Impressive theories, Olivia. If Jack wasn't so convinced that Will is guilty, I would suggest sharing them with him." If she noticed that he was belittling her astonishing profiling to downplay his surprise, she didn't say anything. She kept staring at him, gray eyes sweeping over every crease and wrinkle of his face, as if she could peel back his mask and truly see him.

Not yet Olivia Graham, he thought, holding her intense gaze. Soon, but not yet.

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will Olivia succumb to Hannibal's dark plans? Will she become his greatest apprentice or his final downfall?


	9. Chapter 9

wow it's been a crazy long time sine I've updated - that's my bad. thank you for all your reviews; each one inspires me to keep on writing

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Olivia was helping Hannibal clean up when her phone rang. It cut through the silence that had reigned over them. Mumbling an apology, she dried her hands and pulled her phone out of her bag, answering it with a polite "Hello?"

"Olivia? It's Jack. I need your help on a case." She frowned at her phone. She should've seen this coming, but she wasn't prepared. As if sensing the tension, Hannibal stopped washing the dishes, turning to look at her. He looked so surprisingly domestic, standing there with a towel thrown over one shoulder that Olivia almost forgot to reply. This look he was wearing didn't quite fit the dark portrait her brother painted, she noted distractedly.

"If I'm needed, then I'd be happy to lend a hand. Are you sure this is the kind of case that needs my kinda… help?" She trailed off awkwardly as she shifted her stance, her discomfort only growing as Hannibal kept watching her, face unreadable.

"Yes" was his short reply. She could feel his stress through the phone. "Where are you?"

"Oh you mean right now?" Olivia asked dumbly, suddenly so out of her depth it was painful. This was happening too fast. As she started to spiral, she thought of Will. If she wanted to prove his innocence, she needed to be involved in every case. That way she could gain Jack's trust and respect. It was the only way she'd catch the Ripper in one of his mistakes. She straightened. "I just finished eating lunch with Hannibal, er, Dr. Lecter. When would you come by?" Hannibal shifted closer when she said his name.

"I'll be there as soon as I can — be ready." He hung up without saying goodbye, leaving Olivia staring dumbly at her phone.

"May I ask what that call was about?" Hannibal asked, pulling the hand towel from his shoulder and drying his hands slowly. He already had a loose idea, having heard bits and pieces, but his need to know everything was proving to be too strong.

"That was Jack. He wants my help on a case. He said he was driving over now to come get me." Olivia couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed to leave Hannibal's company.

One one hand, trying to keep up with him mentally — as well as try to figure out his true motives when it came to Will — was exhausting. But at the same time there was something exciting about it. A thrill that only came from a particularly confusing and challenging puzzle. And she was surprised to find that she liked his company. She turned to face her host, setting her phone back down on the countertop. His face was smooth and calm, but his shoulders were too tense.

Hannibal felt conflicted, which was an uncommon occurrence. His lifestyle left no room for doubt or uncertainty. And no room for company. His natural curiosity was eager to see her in action, to compare her methods with her brother's. Of course he was wary of getting too close — he'd already made that mistake with Will: showing his hand before he was sure. But, he also knew that this job was a slippery slope.

Will had also started with just one case, but soon enough he was there at every crime scene with Jack. What would happen to her innocence once she started down this path? He was concerned about what her presence meant for his butcher lifestyle, and yet at the same time he was worried about her. Just how iron-tight was her control?

"Do you think you're ready for what you're going to see? I've seen some of the photos that Will showed me — Jack only brought him in to help catch the truly horrific side of humanity. Are you sure it won't change you?" He asked, folding the hand towel and setting it aside.

Olivia shrugged. "It would be naive of me to think it won't. I'm sure this job will change me, but not in the same ways as it did Will. I don't really care about the victim — I'm there to solve the case, and that's it. Will was the one who always made it personal." The cold truth slipped passed her lips unbidden. Her heart stopped. There it was - the wicked thought that had always been whispering in the back of her mind. She'd never said it so brutally before. She peeked up at her host, fearing his reaction.

Hannibal just nodded in agreement, pleasantly surprised to find yet another similarity between them. Sensing her discomfort, he didn't comment on her statement; he didn't miss the way her shoulders relaxed. "Would you like to come by my office after you're done at the scene? Will liked to compare theories about the cases with me." He offered, hoping she would agree. He had to find some way to keep an eye on her. At least that's what he told himself.

She frowned up at him. "You don't have any clients today?"

"Only one in the late afternoon. I'm sure you will be done by then. And if not, you wouldn't mind waiting, yes?"

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't mind. It's not like I have a quick way home anyways." A knock at the front door signaled Jack's arrival. Olivia scooped up her bag and phone and walked back towards the front entrance. "I guess I'll see you later today then."

Hannibal walked her to the door and helped her with her coat. "I'm looking forward to it. See you then, Olivia." She smiled up at him before slipping through the door.

He watched her until Jack's car disappeared out of sight. Hannibal rolled his broad shoulders with a sigh. Verbally battling with Olivia Graham was surprisingly tiring. He hadn't felt that challenged to not let anything slip in a long time.

She was smarter than she looked and kept things close to the chest. He smiled to himself as he recalled when she started to open up to him. He saw her inner conflict about trusting him, but she talked anyways. He was shocked by how touched he was that she opened up, at least slightly.

And what about that tigress she became when he called Will an animal? That had been quite a beautiful thing to behold, he mused as he strolled back to his kitchen. There had to be a way to bring that side of her back, to channel it in a way that could be useful.

He returned to the sink and finished the dishes. Turning slightly to his right, he found he missed her warm, quiet presence by his side. Perhaps his time of being alone had come to an end.

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short, I know. but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things with this bad boy. I've also updated some chapters because I'm obsessed with perfection :P


	10. Chapter 10

wowy wow has it been a ride juggling work, school, and this fanfic. but it's finally here: a chance to see Olivia in action at a crime scene! *throws confetti*

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"I know Will liked doing his thing when the crime scene was uncontaminated, so I've asked my boys not to touch anything yet. Unfortunately, I can't kick everyone out of the room. I hope that won't be a problem."

Olivia simply nodded, half-tuned into the man beside her, her eyes taking in every detail as they walked up the front stoop to the abandoned house. It was an old Victorian, three stories with a rounded turret on the southeast corner. It must have been a grand house in its day, but years of neglect deteriorated its appearance. The white paint was peeling on the sides of the house.

The front door was tall and wooden, stained a dark brown. Painted on it in an angry red scrawl were the words: _'_ **And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see...'**

"Do you have any idea what this means?" Crawford asked, gesturing to the ominous message. Olivia stepped closer, bending over and resting her hands on her knees.

"It's from Revelation. I'm not sure what part." She said, re-reading the line to commit it to memory. "Revelation is about the Apocalypse, but I don't why they chose this specific verse. But this message is important to the killer - writing it is just as meaningful as leaving the body." She backed away from the door. "Whoever wrote this wanted them to think it was in blood, but blood would've clotted and darkened by now, but this is still bright - my guess is that it's just paint." They have a big opinion of themselves as a killer, she mused, pulling on the pair of blue latex gloves Crawford handed her.

She pulled the door open, Crawford trailing behind her. "You said that music was playing when the body was found?" She asked, craning her neck to take the in monstrous house. As far as abandoned houses went, it was certainly upscale to the usual crack shacks and dens.

"Yes. Price told me that it was Mozart."

 _I play the music, even though it's a risk. It's all about the drama: the cryptic biblical message on the door, the homage to blood, the eerie music wafting through the once magnificent drafty house — this is all building up to my big reveal._ "Where is the body?" She asked, voice neutral.

Working with Olivia was so different than with Will. Will often let his emotions guide him, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he entered a killer's mindset and worked the case. But Olivia's face remained calm and blank, as if this was any day. The fact that a grisly murder took place didn't seem to phase her at all. She didn't let the images control her, which was a relief to Crawford. He wouldn't have to watch her as closely as he did for her brother.

She hadn't said much to him since he came to get her from Dr. Lecter's house. The drive had been silent and uncomfortable. It was clear she still blamed him for Will's incarceration. He wondered what her conversation was like with Hannibal. "Second floor, master suite." Jack shifted uncomfortably as he spoke. Olivia Graham in work mode unnerved him - she was so still.

"It's all about the build up." Olivia murmured, slowly ascending the staircase. She trailed her gloved fingers up the bannister. She pictured the killer in her mind, dramatically descending the stairs in the same, slow motion. _I make you wait for it, let the dread pool in your stomach as your mind conjures up all sorts of horrors. I chose the second floor to make the wait excruciating. I like having this power over you._

The double doors were wide open, and all the other agents were gathered around the king sized bed that dominated the otherwise empty room. Just like Jack had promised, they hadn't touched a thing. They looked up at her as she entered and frowned, not knowing why a teenage girl they'd never seen before was at the crime scene, but not wanting to question their leader, kept their mouths shut. Some openly stared, whispering theories to one another, while others simply peeked at her out of the corner of their eye.

Olivia ignored the looks, remaining focused on her job. She wasn't ashamed of what she could do, and she didn't care if they saw her work. She vaguely listened to the chatter around her as she studied the body.

The victim was young, probably about five or six years older than herself, but she was petite, no taller than 5' 4''. She was sprawled on the bed uncaringly like doll whose owner has grown up and tossed it aside. One arm was bent funny, tucked awkwardly underneath her small frame and the other was flopped to the side. Her honey blonde hair was stained red, curtaining part of her face from view. Olivia assumed that she once was very pretty.

Her throat was slit cleanly, blood pooling around her body in great stains of red. She was still in her clothes, with no signs of them being torn or cut, so that excluded sexual assault. It was rare to see a sexual sadist put the clothes back into their proper place once the deed was done — unless remorse was involved, but the clothing wasn't rumpled like it had been removed, cast aside, then put back on. Olivia's eyes narrowed as she took in the wrinkled, but otherwise undamaged clothing. This wasn't about sex for this killer.

In her mind's eye she pictured the agents around her fading away, the clock turning back as the blood oozed in reverse, the fatal wound closing without a trace. Instead the woman thrashed wildly on the bed, eyes bulged wide with fear. Tears coursed down her blotchy face as she strained against the bonds on her wrists. With cool indifference, Olivia strode forward, climbing up onto the bed and hovering over the older woman.

Olivia did nothing as the girl sobbed violently, didn't blink an eye as she pleaded for her life through the gag in her mouth. Instead she grabbed a long, wickedly sharp knife and brought it to her victim's throat. The writhing stopped, her pupils blowing wide with fear. Olivia stayed like that for a time, basking in the older woman's dread and terror. But quick as a viper, she brought her knife down and across the tender skin of the woman's jugular without hesitation. She didn't even flinch as blood sprayed across her face and arms as the girl jerked a few times and then stilled.

With slow, almost sluggish movements, Olivia bent down again and cut the rope from the dead woman's wrists, shoving the evidence into her pocket. As she lifted the body slightly to grab the rest of the rope, the woman's opposite arm fell awkwardly behind her. Olivia made no move to fix it as she pulled away, knife still in hand. The last thing she did before walking away was pull the wad of cloth from the dead girl's mouth.

Olivia blinked a few times, Will's voice echoing in her head. 'This is my design.' Shrugging off the images dancing in her head easily, she focused again on the now still and cold body. She tried to conjure up sympathy, thinking about such a young life extinguished before it truly began, but couldn't find it in herself to care. Why couldn't she be like Will? Frustrated, she slipped back into the killer's perspective.

 _I don't care about you. You are a means to the end. I slit your throat quickly — I'm not in this for the kill._ She stared the dead body, eyes narrowed. _But I did choose you with care. Something about you is important to me - you did something, or are something, and it caught my attention. I am making the world a better place with this creation. I have an endgame in mind, but I will make the world wait for my work. I like making the world wait._

She walked closer, studying the dead woman's face. With slow, gloved fingers she delicately pushed the curtain of hair away. She was pretty, but something was off about her face; a minor detail that nagged at the back of her mind. Brows knitting together, she swept her gaze slowly across the still and blood-splattered features, trying to figure out what her subconscious was trying to tell her.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Her focus was shattered by an annoyed male voice. Blinking a few times, Olivia looked up from the body.

A man around her brother's age stood across the bed. He too was wearing gloves and was glaring at her. Another, older-looking man stood behind him, staring at her with interest over his companion's shoulder. She assumed they were the forensics people, based on the fact that Angry Guy had a body thermometer and Intrigued Guy had a camera hanging around his neck.

She forced a smile, slightly annoyed for being disturbed during her observations. "Olivia. Nice to meet you." She said, smiling with false sweetness at them. If she was going to start working cases, she might as well get on these people's good side. Luckily for her, she'd gotten good at playing whatever part was necessary. "Jack asked me to come help out here." Until Will is back and you idiots are all on your knees begging for his forgiveness, she finished bitterly in her head. She turned back to the body, dismissing him.

"Jack — this has to be some kind of joke. Why is there a 16 year old girl at our crime scene?" Angry Guy wouldn't let it go. Intrigued Guy went back to taking pictures, but she could tell he was still listening; he liked the gossip and easily slid into the background.

"Actually, I'm 17." She said, eyes still glued to the corpse. Angry Guy opened his mouth, probably to make some sarcastic comment, but Olivia talked over him. "Jack asked for my help, so here I am. Helping." She replied, eyes ticking from Angry Guy to the body still waiting for her. So much for staying on their good side.

Crawford finally decided to step in. "I want her here, Zeller. And last time I checked, I don't have to get your permission or opinion on any of my decisions. Do I make myself clear?" He pinned the younger man with a hard glare.

Chastened, but still angry, Zeller let the topic drop. But Olivia could feel his dark eyes boring into her as she returned to the body.

"What can you tell me, Olivia?" Crawford asked, walking around the bed to stand beside her. His gaze was heavy and intense.

"The killer chose her for a reason, but other than that they didn't care about her. The kill is made quickly — they aren't in it for for the rush, something else is more important than the thrill of ending a life." Her eyes roved around the dead girl's face, trying to pick up on what was bothering her before. And just as suddenly, it clicked. She leaned away from her close scrutiny. "I'm pretty sure the killer is a woman."

Zeller snorted from where he was on the other side of the bed. "That's unlikely. Women don't go for messy kills like this. They like something neat and simple, like poison."

Olivia's fingers twitched, but other than that she didn't let her irritation show on her face. "You seem to know a lot about the preferences of women without being one yourself." She said cooly.

Jack raised a brow at her tone, but did nothing to reprimand her. He worried that if he pushed her, tried to mold her into something he could use too soon, she would be gone in the blink of an eye. He had to tread carefully around Olivia Graham — she saw much more than her brother when it came to human interaction. So when Zeller turned to him for aid, he pretended not to notice.

"You won't find any signs of sexual assault on the body, because the killer isn't in it for the sense of domination that rape brings. While it is possible our female Unsub raped the victim, it's extremely likely." She turned away from Zeller and back to the body. "Look at her wrists — they're bruised like she was tied up. That means she was awake and struggled to get free while they transported her. Now look at her face. Her makeup is flawless, like it was just put on." The three men turned to look where she was pointing.

Sure enough, dark bruises bloomed on the girl's wrist in a painful watercolor of indigo, violet and green, and her face was perfect. Other than the blood smeared on one cheek from her hair, the dead girl's skin was smooth and unblemished. Her lips were still a shiny rose-colored pink, and her winged eyeliner was as straight as a knife.

"If she was awake, then she was terrified about what could happen to her. That means she was probably crying, but her makeup looks like it was done by a professional. There are no puffy eyes, her mascara isn't running, and her lipstick isn't smudged. After the victim died, the Unsub went back and applied her makeup to make her look perfect. Now how many men do you know that can do eyeliner like that?" All she was met with was sullen silence.

"It is likely that it could've been a man, but the chances are too small. Usually with male Unsubs, there is penetration of some kind, either with stabbing or sexually, but this is not the case." She turned to look at Jack. "You're looking for a woman, probably mid 40s, who is strong enough to carry a young woman up a flight of stairs. She also has deep knowledge about the Bible, and believes strongly in it. That quote from Revelation is the key to all of this, I know it."

Without another word, Olivia turned on her heel and marched out of the room, her head buzzing with ideas and theories. She needed a quiet place to organize her thoughts. She felt Jack shadowing her as she walked back to his car.

"What makes you say mid 40s for the age range?" He asked, sliding into the driver's seat with a soft grunt.

"Our victim was in prime condition. Tt would take an older, more seasoned Unsub to subdue her. And this type of attack is something that takes time. The Unsub would've been stewing in her mental delusions for years, and this is just the boiling point. This victim was chosen a long time ago, long before the venue and method were. She needed time to think this whole thing through, and most people around my age don't have the patience to wait that long before they act." She paused, looking over at Jack. "And besides that, men are far more impulsive than women when it comes to biding their time."

Jack nodded, agreeing with her thought process. She was even better than he'd imagined.

"Do you have somewhere I can work without being bothered? And I'm going to need a bible and the case photos." Olivia was too focused on the case to bother with manners.

Jack nodded as he started his car. He wasn't annoyed or offended by her abrupt manner — he was more than used to rough-around-the-edges cops; he didn't put too much stock in niceties. "I know just the place."

* * *

well there it is - the Unsub is my own design - not from Hannibal (either movie, book, or TV form). lemme know what you think. also - I'm having a hard time brainstorming names for this Unsub. if you have any ideas, feel free to throw a few out. :)


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